


CoSL 12: Thicker in Blood

by Dracophile



Series: Grimm-The Casebook of Sloane Larson [12]
Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Blood, Family Drama, Marriage Proposal, episode rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 12:40:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18052676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracophile/pseuds/Dracophile
Summary: Rewrite of Wild Hunt and RevelationsMonroe asks Roslaee to marry him, but there's a hurdle to get over: His Parents. Add to that a wesen killing people in uniform and taking their scalps and it's kind of a stressful week. No less stressful is Nick still dealing with his transformations and hoping the Grimm Librarians will be able to help. They might need something first though...





	CoSL 12: Thicker in Blood

**Author's Note:**

> I added a lot of dialogue given what I've changed so far in the series. The main change will be at the end, when Gallin is ready to help.

**Wild Hunt/Revelations**

\---------------------------------

Someone killed a highway patrolman, and it was not a pretty sight. Death usually wasn’t, murder especially so, but the man was missing the top layer of skin on his head, revealing the blood soaked bone underneath. Officer Aguilar had been chasing a white muscle car that was driving erratically, according to Officer Ross who met them at the scene, and after losing contact they found him propped against his car off a muddy dirt road like this. They were working on getting the video feed from the patrol car sent to the departments.

“Wow…” Sloane muttered. It had been a little over two weeks since the blinde jaeger incident and her shoulder was out of the sling. She’d made the excuse of hurting it at the gym, and everyone at the precinct bought it. The doctors had been surprised how fast it was already healing, even if it was just a minor dislocation, but that was Grimm genetics for you. Unless it was a killing or super crippling blow, they could heal from most things. Something Nick was happy to hear about. But she was pretty sure they would not survive whatever Aguilar went through. “That’s…not right.”

“Assumption is that he caught whoever he was chasing,” Ross sighed. “But he was a tough guy, I can't believe he was taken like this. Whatever happened, he never got a chance to fire his weapon. We're hoping the video will give us more.”

Nick knelt to look closer at the body. “Looks like blunt force, maybe a broken neck.”

Ross nodded. “Yeah, we'll know more when the M.E. has a chance to look at him.”

“You know,” Hank said, eyeing the missing skin with a grimace, “in the good old days, scalps served as kill verification for payment.”

Ross nodded again. “Or as proof of your prowess on the battlefield. Least that’s what I read.”

“Let's hope it's not the good old days again,” Nick said, standing.

“Agreed,” Sloane said. They nodded to Ross and headed to look around the scene a bit. There was nothing that could give them much to go on though, the area was a gravel pit full of water and mud off the side of a busy road.  Ultimately they ended up driving back to the station to wait on the tape. “Another odd one,” Sloane sighed. “Normally I’m pumped but this is especially creepy…”

“Yeah. Don’t suppose it’s tickling any feelings in you?” Hank asked.

“No, not immediately. Hair can be a few different wesen, and scalping is a thing for different cultures. Could just be some nutball too. Now if it was teeth that were missing, that narrows it down.”

Nick and Hank grimaced. “Not sure if that’s better or worse sounding,” Nick said. “Honestly, I’d rather be doing my taxes…”

“…Taxes?” she asked, confused.

Nick and Hank glanced at one another before Hank turned in his seat since Nick was driving. “Sloane…you know what taxes are, right?”

“Of course I do,” she said, huffing a little.

“And that you have to do them?” he clarified.

“…I do?” she asked, honestly confused. “I thought that was like a thing you did if you had a job.”

“You do have a job!” Nick laughed. “You’re doing your job right now.”

“Well, yes…but I thought it was like a…seasonal thing?” she asked hesitantly.

“Sloane, it’s tax season!” Nick said, glancing in the mirror.

“I don’t know what that means! I’ve never had to do them before!” she said helplessly.

“Ever?” Hank asked, almost laughing.

“Hey, I am legally dead in three states—under different names of course, and I’ve never actually held a job before. Taxes were not a priority,” she said defensively. “Besides, most of my money came from people I killed or gambling, and that’s not exactly taxable to my knowledge.”

“Ah…that could actually be a problem,” Hank said, sobering. “The IRS might wonder where you’ve been for the last decade…”

“Ya think?” Sloane said sardonically. Her tone turned more apologetic and pleading. “What do I do?”

“I guess talk to Renard,” Nick said. “He set up your past employment records, he might be able to help you with the tax thing. As far as actually doing them, you can just find a place online.”

“Great…” she said, unenthused.

\----------------------------

Rosalee was on Cloud 9. Last night had been amazing—a total shock she was still reeling from, but amazing. She looked at the ring on her hand again and smiled widely. Honestly, she had no idea Monroe had planned to propose, she though it was all a belated Valentine’s Day thing since the whole Blinde Jager case had put a damper on all that for a bit. When they got home from their fancy dinner and the coo-coo-clock had chimed with “Will you Marry Me?”, the ring around the little birdie, she’d nearly fainted. Mostly because, after her years of addiction and rough living, she’d really given up on the idea of marriage and forever love and all that. She didn’t want to admit that with Monroe she wanted it—she wanted forever and marriage and the whole shebang, but she was terrified to voice and jinx it and be left heartbroken again. The wall of fear was still there, but that part of her had finally broken through and said yes and cried and kissed him and taken him up to bed for more celebrating was still in control and she liked it.

“So where do you wanna do it?” Monroe asked suddenly, holding her hand as they lay together in bed in the early morning hours.

Rosalee thought for a moment before knowing at least part of the answer. “Here.”

“At the house?” he asked in confusion.

“I mean in Portland,” she clarified, chuckling.

“Oh…” he said, smiling as well. “Church wedding?”

“I think I'd rather it be outside. What do you think?”

He smiled, nodding. “Outside is good. When?”

“I was thinking maybe... The spring?” She looked at him, at the bright eyed excitement that mirrored hers and broke off into giggles. “Oh, my God. I can't believe we're talking about this.”

“I know,” he breathed.

“And I-I can't believe I'm wearing this,” she said, looking at the ring. “It's really not a dream.”

“It is for me,” he said warmly.

She looked at him and smiled, turning over to face him. He turned as well and she cupped his jaw and leaned in close. “Me too.” She kissed him gently.

He smiled and sighed. “So... We invite family and friends. No enemies.”

“No enemies is good,” she agreed.

“We have to invite Nick. And Sloane.”

“Of course we do. And Juliette.”

“Juliette's not really the problem,” he sighed. “I just think some of our Wesen friends might not be copacetic, rubbing elbows with a couple of Grimms.”

Rosalee groaned softly, knowing he was right. “Maybe we should just go to Las Vegas…”

“No,” he said, half-whine half-pleading. “This is our wedding. Everybody has to accept everybody for who they are. Besides, my parents would kill me if I got married without them.”

Roslaee smiled, rubbing along his arm comfortingly, smiling as he closed his eyes in complete trust and bliss. “Speaking of that...When am I going to meet them?” His eyes popped open, an awkward look in them. “I think it's... it's probably the right time now, right?”

“Yeah. No, we should... we should be crossing that bridge... You know, soon,” he said, turning on his back and looking up at the ceiling. He was still happy, but there was an edge of worry and panic there.

Rosalee however soldiered on. “Today.” It was firm but gentle. Monroe hummed, looking resigned. She had a feeling this was going to be quite the surprise for his parents.

They cuddled a little longer before getting ready for the day. Rosalee went to the shop and paused before getting everything ready to pull out her phone and text Sloane.

 **_Roselee_ ** _: I have some exciting news!_

It was a couple of seconds later when she got a reply.

 **_Sloane_ ** _: Good exciting?_

 **_Rosalee_ ** _: VERY good._

 **_Sloane_ ** _: What is it?_

 **_Rosalee_ ** _: I want to tell you in person. Can you come by?_

 **_Sloane_ ** _: Can’t right now, sorry._

There was a moment of hesitation before another text came through. She knew Sloane was likely debating what to say. She tried very hard to curtail her blunt ways with Rosalee, and Rosalee knew that and appreciated it. It took some work but now they were close enough she knew Sloane was doing her best to be a good friend.

 **_Sloane_ ** _: We have a big problem. Someone killed a state trooper last night. Really bad. The whole precinct is on alert and we’re on the case._

Rosalee felt her heart sink a bit, not in disappointment but in worry.

 **_Rosalee_ ** _: That’s awful! Any leads?_

 **_Sloane_ ** _: We’re about to look at the footage, but none so far. This killer is good whoever he is. Some weird stuff too, not sure if it’s up your alley or not yet. But don’t worry, we’ll get him._

 **_Sloane_ ** _: Can we text later and talk about meeting up? I’d like to know what made you so happy._

She smiled.

 **_Rosalee_ ** _: Of course. I’ll text you this afternoon, see how you’re doing._

 **_Sloane_ ** _: Sounds great._

 **_Rosalee_ ** _: Be safe._

 **_Sloane_ ** _: I’ll do my best._

Sighing, Rosalee put her phone back in her purse and secured it under the register before getting the shop ready to open.

\----------------------------

When they got back to the station, the video arrived soon after and the whole station gathered to watch. Sloane felt then the sense of comradery between them all, that this didn’t just happen to a man but to one of their fellow officers. And it was strange to think of them that way, as her “fellows”, but it fit. While they got the strange cases, she had actually solved quite a few mundane (by her standard) cases. Like a woman who killed her husband with ant poison. She’d confessed relatively quickly when Sloane found the box in the kitchen—she’d just forgotten to put it back. Not planned at all, not wesen at all. There’d been a theft case where she’d tracked the thief own over a course of days and dragged him back to the station covered in concrete because he’d run to a construction site to try and get away. And a few more in the almost year she’d been in Portland. _I’m…a detective. I like being a detective…_ She smiled briefly at the thought but sobered as the video started.

They watched the chase, then the officer getting out of his car and being attacked by a man. But the sounds the man made were more animal than human in between the officers screams of pain, and Sloane felt her hands tighten automatically. Glancing at Nick, he nodded back. They both actually jumped when Aguilar was slammed on the hood in the video, and winced when he was dragged off again.

Renard finally paused the video and turned to the group. “We received an update about 20 minutes ago from the State Police. They've linked this attack to two other scalpings, one in San Diego of a border patrol officer, the other attack in San Rafael on a naval captain. We believe the suspect entered illegally from Mexico and is now headed our way. So it seems that we have a serial killer who's targeting men in uniform.” Everyone looked around a bit uneasily, hints of anger in the air as well. “No motive for the scalpings yet, other than he's taking souvenirs. Now based on the pursuit video, we know the car to be a 2011 Dodge Challenger,” pointing to the white car on the screen framed by the patrol car lights. “No plates, no registration, but it does stand out. So look for it but do not... I repeat... do not engage the suspect without proper support. You got that?” There were quiet affirmations and nods and he nodded back. “All right. Let's be careful.”

The rest of the day was relatively uneventful, mostly just them trying to find leads and not really succeeding. That was another frustrating part of the job. It was a lot of paperwork, a lot of nowhere leads, and a lot of dead ends. Finally, with a bit of time before she’d clock out, Sloane went to Renard’s office and knocked. He looked troubled, but she could count that to the video earlier she supposed. He looked up and motioned her in. “Larson. How’s the shoulder?”

“Good, though I still need to rest it for a couple more weeks technically,” she said, closing the door. “But I need to talk about a different matter.”

Renard set down the pen he was using to go over some notes. “What about?”

“I have some questions about…well, what I should do given what you’ve done for me.”

Renard quirked his eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“It’s tax season. What the hell am I supposed to do about that?” she clarified a bit more impatiently to the point.

“Ah…Given your history—” he started.

“The one you made up for me,” she reminded him.

“And you’re real one, you’ve never had to do them before I take it?” he said patiently.

She nodded. “Bit hard when you live really off the grid. Or I guess traveling through separate grids. Sometimes simultaneously.” She gestured with her hands a bit. She was much more expressive lately, Renard noted. Nick and the others had been a good influence on her.

Renard smiled. “Well, I set up your past fairly well and their will certainly be record of you paying taxes before.”

“...Okay, that raises too many questions of how you can do that so I’ll just move on to, what does that mean now? Can you do that again?” she asked hopefully.

“I’m afraid not. You’ll have to actually do your taxes yourself.”

She frowned. “I have absolutely no idea how to even start that you realize?”

“I’ll get you started. You’ll find your W-2 in your file folder. Take that and just visit a website, you should be able to figure it out.”

“That’s not helpful,” she said snidely.

“I’m not going to hold your hand for it. The internet is a wonderful tool, utilize it,” he ordered. “Was there anything else?”

She sighed. “Not right now, no…”

“Then have fun,” he said with a dismissive wave. Sloane resisted sticking her tongue out at him and left the office.

Nick looked up, as she stalked back over to her desk. “Everything okay?”

“Just remembering the good old days when I didn’t have to worry about bureaucratic nonsense…” she muttered. Nick glanced at Hank but he shrugged as well. Sloane took her phone off her desk and frowned. “I’m also wondering about Rosalee…she said she wanted to talk, said she had some exciting news, but I told her it was a busy day here. She said she’d text me later but still hasn’t and it’s getting late.”

“Monroe did the same thing,” Nick said. “I hope everything is alright…”

“I’m sure you’d know if it wasn’t,” Hank said. “They probably just got side-tracked with something.”

“Or each other,” Nick said knowingly.

“Yeah,” Sloane sighed. “But it is actually getting late and I need to pick up some groceries on the way home. Should we call it a day?”

“Sounds good,” Hank agreed. “Fresh start in the morning.”

“Yeah,” Nick sighed, standing as well.

As they headed for the garage, Nick put a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, uh…I got something for you.” He led her over to his car and pulled something out of the back seat. “I managed to keep forensics from finding this that night with Petrevski.” He handed her a long object wrapped in a scarf. Unwinding it, Sloane smiled when she saw the familiar hilt.

“My knife!” she said, smiling happily. “I thought it’d been blow up…”

He smiled back. “Yeah, I found it in a tree. It’s pretty durable, though it was a bit scuffed up and, well…charred. I found someone local and had it cleaned and restored.”

“You did?” Sloane unwrapped it the rest of the way, noting that the blade look polished and sharpened and the leather grip was actually much better looking, likely remade completely. She hadn’t had that done in years. “Wow…it’s almost a new knife now…”

Nick frowned at the sort of unsure tone she had. “Is that okay?”

“No…I mean yes, it’s great, just…” She sighed. “I missed this knife. It’s been like another part of me for years. It belonged to my grandmother. The only thing my…my mother actually passed down to me, used by both of them. But I got to thinking how many wesen…people I killed with it…And how many more before that.” She fingered the ornate G engraved at the base of the blade near the hilt. “Stuff I never let myself think about before but keeps coming up.”

Nick watched her and then gently set a hand on hers at the hilt. “Hey. A knife is a tool. You decide what to do with it. If you want to make different choices, now is a good time. The knife’s been reborn, you can be too.”

Sloane looked up and then smiled wryly. “Reborn? Really?”

He huffed a laugh. “Too melodramatic?” She raised a hand and teetered it side to side with a playful purse of her lips. He pinched the back of her hand and she fake gasped and took it away as if affronted. “You get my meaning.”

She smiled. “Yeah, I do…thanks. And thanks for this. What do I owe you?”

“It’s a gift.”

“You know I don’t like owing-” she started.

“It’s a gift,” he said more firmly. “For saving my but so many times. And because You’re my friend.”

She paused but smiled. “Thanks…”

“See you tomorrow?”

“See you then.” She wrapped the knife back up, having not warn the hilt harness since her shoulder was hurt, and set it in the seat of her car. She stopped for her small list of things to get at the store, then went home to cook a simple dinner of fish, salad and pasta. After that she worked out a bit; her usual routines of push-ups, sits ups, and doing pullups using a bar in her bedroom doorway.

She was just finishing up when she got a call from Nick. Picking it up, she took a swig of water before answering. “Nick?”

“Hey, Sloane…”

“What’s wrong?” she asked, picking up on the hesitant tone of his voice.

“Well…Has my mom tried to contact you?”

Sloane paused in taking another drink and frowned. “No, I haven’t heard from Kelly in a few weeks.”

“Weeks?”

She smiled a bit. “She calls to ask me about you primarily and how you’re doing about once a month.”

Nick chuckled. “I see…Well, uh…Juliette emailed her today.”

“Oh? And something troubles you about that?”

“No no, I said it was okay. She sent an email back. If I’m reading it right, she had to put her current mission on hold and she went to meet with L, who I think is-”

“The Lauffer?” Sloane asked with a frown. “The anti-royal resistance group?”

“Yeah. Do you know them?”

“Vaguely,” She admitted. “I helped on the fringe with some of their work, but never joined in any official capacity. So she knows more about it than me. I do know their work is usually to disrupt the royals as much as possible—deals, land work, exposing underhanded moves, etc. Theft and assassinations were occasional, but not enough for me to be an asset.”

“…What about my mom?” he asked.

Sloane sighed, knowing what he was worried about. “You’re mom…is stealthy. Getting in and out of a place without being noticed is a big strength of hers. I advise you to take that as you will and don’t press.”

Nick took a breath but seemed to agree. “So, they probably have an important job for her?”

“That’s my guess. I wouldn’t worry, Kelly can handle herself.”

“I know…Just wanted to hear it from you I guess. Also she said it’s safer for me to contact her through Juliette…”

“Likely true, they’d put together she’s not a Grimm fairly fast and likely keep back, thinking she’s not involved.”

“Likely?” Nick asked dubiously.

“They would definitely not if they thought you were a newly minted Grimm,” Slaone said idly. “You might be worried for Juliette, but if they found out about you or me, enemies would definitely try to engage. You got the reapers to back off for now, but there are plenty of other groups that don’t like Grimms. Especially if they found out your Kelly Kessler’s son.”

“Kessler?” Nick asked in confusion.

“Your mother still goes by her maiden name in many circles. Now that I think about it, it’s probably to protect you…” she said in realization.

“Oh…” He murmured. That probably brought up some conflicting feelings to say the least.

Sloane took another sip of water and wiped her mouth. “Don’t worry, Nick. I swear, Kelly knows what she’s doing.”

“I know, I know…I just don’t want to lose her again…” he sighed, sounding weary.

Sloane thought about what if her grandmother suddenly appeared after thinking she was dead. “…I get that…” she said honestly. “By the way, how’s the uh… ‘condition’?” she said, changing the subject.

“It’s…hard to predict,” he sighed. “I haven’t changed in a while but…I don’t think it’s over. Every now and then I just have this feeling, like the world is slowing down. Everything gets super bright or sharp or loud…and…”

“And what?” Sloane asked hesitantly.

“…And I feel like I want to fight. Something. Anything.” He sounded pinched and anxious. “I was ready to kill Petrevski, even when it meant probably blowing Hank and me to hell. Just…anger and fear seem to trigger it. Not a great thing when I have to deal with criminals _and_ possible homicidal wesen.”

Sloane frowned and sighed. “I’ll check in with Gallin later.”

“Okay…I guess it’s too much to hope it’ll just go away, huh?” he said morosely.

“I promise, we’ll figure it out,” Sloane said, firm.

She thought she could picture him smiling. “Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow then. Goodnight, Sloane.”

“Goodnight, Nick.” Hanging up, Sloane sighed looked to see she had no new messages. It wasn’t like Rosalee to leave her hanging. Opening it up, she typed out real quick.

 **_Sloane:_ ** _Hey, everything alright?_

She set the phone down on her bedside table and went to rinse off and get ready for bed. Returning, she had a new message.

 **_Rosalee:_ ** _I’m so sorry! I was going to text back, but something came up. I’m going to be busy tomorrow too._

 **_Sloane:_ ** _It’s alright. Anything I can help with?_

 **_Rosalee:_ ** _I wish, but it’s sort of a thing with Monroe and I. His parents are coming over._

Sloane’s eyebrows went up. That must be part of the exciting news, but it sounds like it was a surprise for Rosalee. Also stressful. Given how worried she was about Monroe meeting her mother and sister, this must be a worry for her on a different side.

 **_Sloane:_ ** _Good thing?_

 **_Rosalee:_ ** _Yes, very good. I hope. Just nervous. Happening little fast .Gotta plan a dinner and cook. They aren’t vegan so we’re thinking bratwurst. And it’s probably best you don’t meet them, if I’m honest._

 **_Sloane:_ ** _I’m not insulted, from what he’s said before I figured Monroe’s parents might be a little traditional and wouldn’t really like a Grimm. Wasn’t sure it would ever come up._

 **_Rosalee:_ ** _A lot traditional possibly. I’m worried what they’ll say about a fuchsbau._

 **_Sloane:_ ** _If you want me to call and make up an excuse to get you out of there, let me know. But you should do fine. If you can charm a Grimm like me, you can probably handle a couple more Blutbader._

 **_Rosalee:_ ** _:D Thanks. Once this is done, then I definitely want to talk. We’ll have a girls night._

 **_Sloane:_ ** _Never done that before. Sounds fun. Goodnight and good luck then._

 **_Rosalee:_ ** _Goodnight._

Sloane sighed and plugged her phone in to charge, feeling better. Lying in bed, she let her mind drift over things from the last few days before a stab of infuriation went through her. “Shit, I forgot my tax forms!”

\---------------------

 In the early morning they were called to another crime scene with a scalped victim and Sloane grimaced. More so when they determined he was a Green Beret, not someone to be taken down easily. Back at the station, they ran down what they knew.

“We have no prints from any of the crime scenes,” Nick said.

“No blood except for the victims,” Hank added.

“No witnesses,” Renard chimed in.

“The only thing we know for sure is the make and the year of the car,” Sloane sighed.

“And the pattern of victims,” Renard reminded them.

Hanks computer beeped and he quickly brought up a new page. “Huh, here's an update from the Oregon highway patrol. Federales in Mexico reported two similar killings in the last ten days. The victims were scalped. One was an army officer in Mazatlan. The other was identified as a police officer in San Luis Potosi-”

Wu suddenly ran up on them, urgent look on his face. “Patrol officer spotted a car matching the description... 2011 Dodge Challenger parked on Stark in the southwest.”

Renard and the detectives were already scrambling. “Make sure the officer knows not to get near that vehicle and to stay back. I want more unis out there covering a four-block radius. Anyone gets in that car, take him down.” Renard was right behind them heading to the car. “I’m driving.”

“You sure?” Sloane asked. “I mean, we probably have it handled.”

“This guy is targeting men in uniform, which is bad enough, but it’s a matter of time before he targets a cop, maybe one of mine. I want to help take him down,” he said seriously.

Sloane raised her hands quickly. She hadn’t really seen this side of Renard before and she had to give him credit for being intimidating. “Okay, okay. Nick has the keys.”

Nick handed them over without much resistance. “Shotgun?”

Renard just smiled. They all climbed in, Nick in the front and Sloane and Hank in the back while their captain took the wheel. Driving towards the southwest side of the city, they pulled up to an officer waiting for them up the street. Renard rolled down the window. “Where is it?”

“Halfway down the block, right-hand side. Nobody's been back to the car since we got here,” the officer said. Just then someone was forcefully shoved out of the door of the nearby motel. By forcefully, he was thrown down to the sidewalk, just a foot from the street.

“What the hell?” Hank asked.

“Could be our guy,” Renard said.

“That string bean?” Sloane muttered doubtfully.

“I'll check it out,” Nick said.

Renard nodded. “Just be careful. If it's not our guy, we don't want to scare him away.”

Hank climbed out as well. “I'll take the other side.”

“I’ll go up the side towards that motel,” Sloane said, climbing out. She started around the back of the motel, where she could see the back door was ajar. She pulled her knife to be ready as she was about to turn the corner. Just as she did, a tan truck came screeching out of the back parking lot. She only barely managed to dodge by ducking back down the side alley time before it moved out onto the road. Having a bad feeling, Sloane moved back to the front. Nick and Hank were with the man that had been ejected from the motel, Renard right by them. “He says the guy in 312 hit him,” Nick said as she was walking up.

“That could be our guy. Get the M.T. Call the paramedics. Get an APB out and find out what kind of truck this guy's driving,” he told the officer in the nearby car.

“Late 90s aqua blue and tan Chevy ,” Sloane said.

“How do you know that?” Hank asked.

“Because he nearly ran me over in the alleyway back there. That’s all I was able to get though.”

“Are you alright?” Nick asked.

“Fine, I managed to move in time, but barely because he got out of there fast.”

They nodded, relieved she was okay, then looked up at the building. “We'd better check 312.”

Going in, they checked to make sure there was no one in the room before calling clear. There was a definite odor in the air though, and moving to the bathroom Renard found the source. Bits of hair and blood were at the bottom of the bathtub, still damp. It was like seaweed in puddles of red. And the foul odor was rising from there.

“Ugh, man, that's bad. It smells like rotten eggs in here,” Hank said.

“Sulfuric acid. That and salt is what they use to tan hides,” Renard supplied, surprisingly unaffected.

“You mean scalps,” Nick corrected.

 Renard didn’t pause. “The Forensics needs to go over this room and his car, now.”

\-----------------------

“You want to hear about the car?” Hank asked as Sloane and Nick returned from the printer.

“We do,” Nick said, smiling a little at progress.

“2011 Challenger is registered to Captain Emilio Cervantes, who was reported missing two weeks ago in Calexico, five miles from our first scalping victim, the border patrol guard.”

“So we still have no I.D. on our killer?” Sloane sighed.

“No. In fact, Mr. Cervantes, the owner of the Challenger, may be another victim who hasn't been found. What do you got?” Hank asked.

Nick held up his papers. “Lab reports on the hair follicles found in the hotel room and in the Challenger. We got samples that match our two victims plus... get this... 27 other unrelated samples.”

“27 others?” Hank and Sloane gaped.

“We thinking Wesen yet?” Hank asked, looking at the Grimms.

“I'm ready to go there. Sloane?”

“Yeah, sounds likely,” she agreed. “This guy has some purpose in mind and he’s going way too fast for a human.”

“What do you have?” Nick asked.

Sloane grimaced and held up the papers. “My taxes…”

Nick smiled, trying not to laugh. “You went walking through the sewers a few months ago with less complaining than this…”

“Because they don’t make sense! I’d rather fight the gelumcaedus again than do this…” she added quietly.

He did laugh a little now. “I can help you with them later if you want.”

Sloane smiled, a genuine smile of gratitude that Nick rarely saw when she first arrived but he realized was getting more common. “Thanks.”

“First things first, let’s figure out what’s murdering people,” Hank said.

“That I’m good at,” Sloane smiled more confidently.

They headed out and to the trailer at the trailer park in their own cars, settling down to read through the books. Hank was the first to find something. He was scanning down the translations that were inserted for this section into various languages.

“Well, looks like the original was in Latin, translated into German next, followed by Italian, Spanish, and Arabic.” He paused and just shook his head. “I have no idea what this is.”

“I think that's Polish or Czech,” Nick said, standing next to him. “Maybe Norwegian?”

“The last one I believe,” Sloane said from the other side. “But I’m rusty on reading anything like that. I’m more conversational than well-read…”

“All I know is, it's not English,” Nick said. “Isn't there anything?”

Hank turned the page and they all sighed in relief. “English next, thank God. They're into the names of these guys. Wildesheer, wuotis heer...”

“ _VIL-dəs-hair_ ,” Sloane pronounced slowly. “It means “Wild Army”.”

“Sounds accurate. Listen to this,” Nick said, pulling the book a little over. “‘The Wildesheer,” he glanced at Sloane who nodded in acceptance of his pronunciation. “Go into a rage on the battlefield, with no fear of death,"”

“Again, no fear of death?” Sloane sighed.

“ ‘Mad as hounds, faces smeared with blood of victims,’” Nick went on. “ ‘Fighting in a trance-like fury, scalping their defeated enemies.’” Hank and Sloane shared a glance. “ ‘They sew these trophies of war into cloaks of hair," "supposedly giving them the power of the warriors they've defeated.’” Sloane looked at the picture of a beast of a man wearing a cloak of hair with a grimace.

“Warriors...They're looking for warriors,” Hank said, putting the pieces together. “That's why their victims always wear uniforms.”

“Police, army, green beret—uniforms of todays warriors I suppose,” Sloane agreed.

“And sewing cloaks of hair... That's what this guy's doing?” Nick asked, a little disbelieving.

Hank turned the book back over, quickly reading on. “ ‘These Wesen achieved such fearsome reputations, they also became known as... Berserkers.’”

Nick blinked and then sighed. “Guess that's where we got "berserk."”

“Part of it,” Sloane said, thinking. “I’d heard that word came for the Norwegian “ber-serker”, basically meaning “bear-shirt”, and was used as a title for great warriors. I think I can see how they might use it here, what with the wesen features and the whole hair cloak thing.”

“Well, this isn't comforting at all,” Hank said.” Let me say, I'm glad we're not wearing uniforms. But if they’re looking for warriors, you'd two would kind of be at the top of the list.”

Nick nodded, knowing that was probably true. When he glanced at Sloane, his face fell flat at her eager, bright eyes. “You want to fight them, don’t you?”

“…Little bit,” she acknowledged, holding up her fingers just slightly apart. “Mostly to stop them.”

“Mostly?” He was torn between laughter and disapproval, but Hank was mostly laughing.

“Hey, I never said I’d give up all my old habits. I still like a challenge,” she pouted, crossing her arms.

Hank shook his head. “Well, let’s try to figure out a way to actually beat them first. I’m not sure head on is the best option if you want to keep the top of your head.”

Sloane picked up the book and sighed as she flipped through it. “Not much more here. Looks like this was mainly a reference for what they look like and their actions, not a how to hunt.”

“Monroe and Rosalee might know something?”

Sloane nodded. “Maybe. Doesn’t hurt to ask.”

“You guys need me on that? Because I’ll be honest, I skipped lunch and I’m running on empty,” Hank said with a sigh. “I also have some auto searches running back at the station I’d like to check.”

Sloane shook her head. “Go ahead. And get some rest too.”

“Yeah, we can go talk to Monroe and Rosalee,” Nick said.

“Better to have your wits about you too,” Sloane added.

“Yeah. I should start carrying protein bars like you,” he said with a wry smile.

“Hey, I’m rarely hungry,” she said, spreading her arms proudly.

They went back to their own cars, Sloane just ahead of Nick’s car as they headed towards Monroe and Rosalee’s. The sun was setting, and soon enough it was dark. She was just getting out of her car when the front door opened and then slammed loudly, making her jump. Roslaee was coming down the steps, obviously agitated.

“Rosalee?” Sloane asked.

Rosalee froze. “Slaone?”

“What’s wrong?” she asked, moving towards her.

“I just…I can’t be here,” she sobbed out. “We had a fight…I…” She was trying very hard not to break down crying, Sloane could tell, and she felt a wave of protectiveness go through here. But she didn’t see any marks on her so she resisted marching in and kicking ass, knowing that wouldn’t help.

“Okay…C’mon, I’ll drive you somewhere,” she said. Gently she put a hand on arm and led her to Sloane’s car. Rosalee didn’t say anything but went with her without argument, climbing into the passenger seat.

As Sloane was about to get in, Nick was pulling up. He got out and looked at them. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure. Rosalee is upset, said something about a fight, but she seems fine physically…Go talk to Monroe, I’m going to take her somewhere else.” Nick nodded, looking at Rosalee worriedly as Sloane climbed in and drove off.

The drive was quiet, Rosalee breathing and trying hard to get herself under control. Sloane drove to her house, helping the other woman up to the door. She had her sit on the couch looked at her worried. “…You want something to drink?”

“No…thank you,” Rosalee said quietly.

“…I’m gonna make tea for me. Let me know if you change your mind.” Sloane stood and went to the kitchen, putting on her kettle. From the kitchen she watched as Rosalee started sobbing and then put her face in her hands and leaned down to cry. She quickly came back around but paused. Comforting people was still not her strong suite, but she wanted badly to know do it now. Sitting on the coffee table across from Rosalee, Sloane considered hugging her, putting hands on her head and patting her, telling her to get under control—none of that seemed right. Finally Sloane said quietly. “I…don’t like it when you cry. But I don’t know what to say. If someone needs to be beaten up, or killed, or something I’m good at it, but this…I just want to help, but I can’t if I don’t know what you want me to do. Whatever I can do for you, I will.”

Rosalee sobbed and sniffled a moment more before sitting up, looking at her with puffy eyes. “I…Monroe asked me to marry him.”

Sloane sat straighter in surprise. “Oh! Um…Mozeltov?” she said, uncertain. “Wait, is that what’s wrong? I thought…I mean…”

“No, no,” she said, shaking her head. “I was happy…so happy about it. I couldn’t believe it. I’d sort of resigned myself to not being married—My sister didn’t have luck there with two divorces and neither did Freddie who was a bachelor till the end, and I just figured it was never going to happen after my checkered past. Basically curse of our family. So this…this made me so happy.” She took her hand up and rubbed over the ring. Sloane noted it looked nice, even if she didn’t know much about engagement rings. Elegant.

“Well…that’s good then, right?” she said, smiling. But Rosalee still looked miserable so the smile faded. “What happened?”

Rosalee was quiet then sighed. “It’s Monroe’s parents.”

“His…Oh, right! You mentioned they were coming over. It slipped my mind…” Sloane said, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly. A lot had happened since their texts last night.

“Yeah, well, a lot of things slipped Monroe’s mind,” she said with a touch of bitterness. “H-he told them about the engagement and they rushed over. But they didn’t know I wasn’t a blutbad. And they figured out I was a fuchsbau quick. Blutbad nose. And th…they freaked out. So bad,” she sobbed again. Sloane blinked in surprise. She hadn’t considered wesen might have a thing against different wesen marrying. Then again, she’d learned just how human they were recently. “M-Monroe tried to defend me, defend us, but his parents just went on about it being against nature, and a mistake, and…” She looked down. “It hurt Monroe too, I know, but I was angry at him too. So angry I couldn’t stay. He didn’t tell them what I was, he didn’t even tell them we were living together! He must’ve known, somewhere inside, that this would happen but he didn’t prepare them or me!”

“…yeah, I can agree that’s pretty bad,” Sloane said. “Sounds like he was scared though. I mean, Monroe is pragmatic, he doesn’t just avoid stuff.”

Rosalee sighed and nodded. “I know…So I feel bad I’m angry when he must be hurt too, and then I’m angry that I should feel bad, and then I feel guilty I’m tearing his family apart, then angry at them…I’m just all mixed up,” she sighed.

“…My grandmother went through something similar,” Sloane said, thinking.

Rosalee looked up. “She did? About being a Grimm?”

“Ah, no…My grandfather’s parents weren’t keen on him marrying a Jewish woman,” she said, grimacing a little at the thought.

“Oh…” Rosalee said, a little surprised.

“Yeah…the times, you know? Or just awful people. I read all about in in her journals. It hurt her, but Oma offered to convert—they were Catholic—because she loved my grandfather, even though her faith was important to her. This just made him even angrier at his parents. He blew up at them. He’d spent the last three years of his life fighting against Nazis, seeing what they put Jews and so many other people through. He loved Oma and knew she was a great woman. But his parents thought she was inferior—heck, that she was a monster. Really, from what she says, they probably would’ve sided with Hitler if they’d been born in Germany. He didn’t want them to accept her only if she denied her heritage and told them to stuff it. So, little different but…” Sloane felt like she was rambling an a different track and wondered if she should’ve said anything. It felt like she was making this about her or her grandmother, not Rosalee, and she wanted to kick herself.

“…What did they do?” Rosalee asked, honestly curious.

Sloane breathed a sigh, relieved that Rosalee wasn’t upset about the slight change in topic. “He gave them an ultimatum. Apparently this was just the last in a line of things that Grandpa couldn’t stand about them—they were not great people. But this was the last straw. So he said he’d only see them again if they apologized to Oma and held their tongues about their anti-Semitism, at the very least. And then they ran off to California and got married.”

The kettle whistled then and Sloane and Rosalee both jumped. Rosalee looked at her and they chuckled a little as Sloane went to take it off the stove and pour it over teabags in two mugs. She walked over with them, setting the other down on the table while she sat with her. “I brought you tea anyway.”

Rosalee smiled a watery smile and leaned against her shoulder. “Thanks…” Sloane nodded, blowing on her tea and taking a sip. Rosalee had calmed slightly but was still occasionally leaking tears and sniffling. “…Did they ever apologize?” she asked quietly after a few minutes.

Sloane put her cup down. “…I haven’t read they did, no. And I’m up to several years after they got married.”

 Rosalee sighed. “I don’t want to put a rift between Monroe and his parents…”

“That’s something you’ll have to talk with him about,” Sloane said. Hesitantly she put an arm around her. “You’re both my friends, but I’m gonna support _you_ in whatever you do…Little bit of favoritism maybe, but well…”

Rosalee smiled more, leaning against her still. “Thank you, Sloane…”

“Of course…” Sloane froze when a thought came to her. “Wait…are Monroe’s parents at Monroe’s?”

Rosalee looked up. “I left them there, yeah…why?”

“Shit shit shit!” Sloane quickly stood and grabbed her phone. “Nick was going in there!”

“Oh no,” Rosalee gasped. “A Grimm is going to be gas on that fire!”

Sloane nodded, quickly dialing Nick’s number.

“Sloane?” Nick asked when she picked up. “Hey, what happened?”

“Are you okay?” she asked quickly.

“Yeah, I’m fine...” he sighed.

“Good,” she breathed. “Rosalee told me Monroe’s parents were there and I’d left you alone…”

“Yeah, but I get it, I was worried too. How’s Rosalee?”

“Uh…drained, I think is a good word,” she said, glancing at Rosalee. She nodded softly. “Monroe?”

“Not…great. Monroe’s parents almost attacked me. Monroe managed to stop them, but I nearly…I felt that change coming on,” he sighed. “I was this close to slapping his dad into the wall when he came at me. I might’ve put him through it.”

Sloane frowned. “Self-defense, Nick. It’s just protective instincts.”

“I know, but even so I don’t want to possibly kill Monroe’s father over a misunderstanding. And I don’t like losing control like this, slipping into that state. It doesn’t seem to be getting better, I just know the signs to try and back off and keep from going under, so to speak. Even not hitting him, things got…awkward real fast. They weren’t expecting a Grimm to be his friend...They don’t even know about you.”

“Sorry, I really didn’t mean to leave you without backup…”

“No, I had Back up,” he said. “Monroe defended me. He was pretty upset though so I ended up leaving. I think he needs some time. He and his parents really went at it…”

“Yeah…I got that impression too.”

“I didn’t help. He blew up a little when I said I came for help with a wesen case, saying that’s all I came to him for.”

“Hey, that’s not true. And he knows it,” she said, putting a hand on her hip out of reflex.

“Yeah, but I think we should let him and Rosalee off the hook for wesen stuff for a while,” Nick said. “We rely on them a lot. Maybe too much.”

Sloane arched her eyebrow. “I seem to remember saying something similar when I first came down and you worked really damn hard to convince me otherwise,” she said blandly. “And you argued they were a better resource than the library.” Rosalee gave her a curious look and she gave her a look that said “Just a sec” in return.

“Yeah, no...I just…don’t want to be a burden. Juliette said we probably aren’t, that if it was a problem Monroe would’ve said so before but…”

Sloane softened and sighed. Monroe was as much his friend as Rosalee was hers, and she knew she’d be pretty upset if they’d had an argument like that. “It’s been a stressful night all around. Why don’t we rest, start fresh in the morning?”

“Yeah…yeah, that sounds good,” Nick sighed. “Is Rosalee still with you?”

“Yeah. Hold on.” She took the phone away. “You’re staying the night.”

Rosalee couldn’t help but smile. “Do I get a choice?”

“...Stay the night please?” she tried again.

Rosalee did laugh this time. “Okay, yes. Thank you.”

Sloane nodded and put the phone back up to her ear. “She’s staying the night.”

“That’s probably good,” Nick said, sounding amused. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Later,” Sloane agreed. She hanged up and sighed. “Nick’s okay. Monroe’s parents did try to attack him, but Monroe defended him. So, uh, now you’re not the most “unnatural” relationship he has?” she said, trying to lighten the mood.

Rosalee chuckled. “But he’s okay?”

“Yeah. Monroe got a little upset, but Nick gave him some room to cool off.”

“Probably good…What were you guys doing coming over anyway?”

Sloane hesitated then shrugged. “Just checking in…” Rosalee gave her a dubious look and she sighed. “Wesen case. But that can wait. For now, you take the bed, I’ll sleep in the office.”

“Oh no, Sloane, this is your place now-” she started.

“Yes. And as this is my place, I say you take the bedroom. The office has too much Grimm stuff in there, might be…uncomfortable,” she said, pulling Rosalee to her feet. Rosalee was surprised she’d thought about that. “You can borrow one of my sleep shirts if you like. They’re extra large men’s shirts I get at Goodwill, but they’re comfy.”

“…Thank you,” Rosalee said, wrapping her up in a hug. “This…would’ve been a lot harder without you.”

Sloane blushed a bit on reflex, still not used to such gentle words or touches like that, and slowly hugged her back. “Any time.”

\-------------------------------------

It was early in the morning—as in no sun in the sky—when Sloane was awakened by someone knocking at her door. Frowning, she stood from her guest bed and walked out of the office and to the front door. She had an umbrella stand next to the door and from it she pulled a bat, looking through the peep hole. “…Monroe?”

“Hey, Sloane…is Rosalee here?” he asked hopefully.

“...Yes…” she answered hesitantly.

He took a deep breath and leaned against the door. “Oh thank God…I tried the spice shop first and nearly panicked when she wasn’t there. Actually I did panic, then I lost track of time before I finally realized she might be here.” He looked up at the peep hole again. “Can I…come in?”

“I don’t know…she was pretty upset earlier, Monroe, and I’m not sure if she’s ready?” Sloane said. She wasn’t trying to sound upset at him, more just worried about Rosalee.

“C…can you ask?” he said. “Please, I really need to talk to her.”

She hesitated before sighing. Monroe sounded way too broken up for her to ignore. “Wait there.” Turning, she padded back to her bedroom and over to the bed. “Rosalee?”

She wasn’t really asleep and opened her eyes. “…Is that Monroe?” she guessed.

“Yeah. A very sad wolf is at the door. Want me to let him in?”

She took a deep breath before nodding. “I’ll be out in a second.”

Nodding, she went back and unlocked the door, opening it up. “…Aren’t you usually supposed to bring flowers when you’re trying to make up?” she asked idly.

“Yeah…no florists are open though,” he said, walking in. “Plus I went straight to the shop, then straight here after being in a daze for a bit…actually, a couple of hours. I fell asleep with my eyes open I think…” He looked at her, then to the bat. “How much did she tell you?”

“Enough to know you didn’t mean to hurt her.” She leaned in, tapping his chest with the bat gently. “Lucky you. Friend or no, that would not have been good for you.”

“Ha, yeah…I’d have let you take my head if I did hurt her on purpose,” he said, and Sloane detected no lie there.

“Damn, stop making threatening you such a guilt trip…” she sighed. He smiled and then looked up anxiously when Rosalee came out, redressed in her clothes from earlier. “Hey…”

“Hey.”

Taking a breath, he tried to find his words, walking towards her. “Rosalee…I am so sorry. If I had known, I never would have told them anything,” he said, looking remorseful.

Rosalee’s face pinched and she sighed. “We need to talk.” She glanced at Sloane.

“…Oh, uh…I’m gonna just go…somewhere else,” she said, heading for her office.

Rosalee smiled as she closed the door and turned back to Monroe. She gestured for him to come and sit with her on the couch. He did, and hesitantly reached for one of her hands. She didn’t flinch away or stop him, and he was relieved and held on. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she said honestly, with remorse in her voice as well. “But…”

“I am not gonna let my parents destroy the best thing that's ever happened to me,” Monroe said firmly, squeezing her hand.

“It's not that easy. This will ruin your relationship with your parents, and I'm not quite sure I want to be the cause of that,” Rosalee said.

He shook his head, “You're not. They're the cause of it.”

She frowned, trying to get him to see past the stubbornness. “Monroe, I lost my dad. I didn't speak to my mom or sister for seven years. This is not an easy thing to do. You will regret it. And then you're gonna regret me.”

“Never,” he said firmly. “I don't believe what they believe, okay? And if that destroys my relationship with them, so be it.”

Sloane, who was listening in despite herself, looked at a picture of her Grandmother and wondered if this was similar to the talk she’d had with her grandfather decades ago. From the descriptions in her journals, it certainly sounded like it. And she hoped, for their happiness, it went better with Monroe’s parents than with his. And that it had a happier ending…

“And besides... It's not just you,” Monroe sighed.

“What?”

“Nick came over...”

“Ah…Sloane mentioned that. Did they woge?” She asked with a wince.

“Both of 'em. Just before they attacked Nick.”

Rosalee winced again and sighed. “So now they know you're friends with a Grimm and you want to marry a Fuchsbau.” They looked at each other and couldn’t help but laugh. It was such an odd situation to be in, and yet it was their life.

“Yeah…I guess you could say I'm a disappointment.”

Rosalee shook her head and took his hand, leaning against him. “Not to me…”

Sloane smiled, but felt a twinge of something she wasn’t sure about in her chest. It was tight, but not the same as fear or anxiety.

“Sloane?” Rosalee called.

Rousing herself from trying to examine that feeling, she opened the door and poked her head out. “Everything okay?”

“No,” Monroe said honestly. “But…Between Rosalee and I, think it will be.” Rosalee smiled and squeezed his hand. “What time is it?”

Sloane looked at the clock on her cable box. “Uh…6:30-ish.”

He nodded and stood. “I’m going to call my parents. I gotta deal with this.”

“What, now? This early?” Rosalee said.

“No one talks to you like that,” Monroe said seriously, pulling out his phone.

Rosalee was touched, and Sloane had to admit it was impressive. “Who are you calling?”

“My mom,” he said. “I’m gonna find them, say my good-byes, and then we’re going to get on with our lives.” He put the phone to his ear, waiting. Tuning in her hearing, Sloane could hear when the line was picked up.

“Monroe?” a very feminine, house-wife like voice answered. She had to admit, she hadn’t expected his mother to sound like that. She sounded worried too.

Monroe took a deep breath. “I think we should meet up and talk. Where are you?”

“The Stanbridge Hotel.”

“Okay. I’ll be there soon.” He hanged up again quickly and turned to look at them. “They went to stay at the Stanbridge Hotel. I’m going to go meet up with them.”

“You’re sure about this?” Rosalee asked again.

“It’s going to be hard, I won’t lie to you,” he said, going over to sit with her again. “But you are worth it.”

Rosalee blinked rapidly as she teared up and hugged him tightly. “Love you…”

“Love you too,” he said, kissing her temple. Pulling away, he stood and she followed as they headed to the door. A few more kisses and he left. Rosalee leaned against the door, breathing deeply.

“…How are you doing?” Sloane asked.

Rosalee turned and smiled. “Better,” she said. Walking over, she hugged Sloane again. “Thank you for everything…”

Sloane smiled and hugged her back. “You don’t have to keep thanking me.”

“I feel like I do.” Pulling back she smiled tiredly. “Can I at least make you an early breakfast as thanks?”

“Well, I won’t say no to someone else cooking,” Sloane grinned. “But no offense, you still look tired as hell. Want to try and sleep a little more?”

Rosalee smiled more. “I’m not sure I could sleep right away…Doing something will make me feel better. Unless you’re tired,” she added quickly.

“I’m fine,” she said, smiling. Roslaee smiled back and headed for the kitchen, Sloane going to sit at the table.

“You’ve gotten a lot better at stocking your fridge,” Rosalee said, pulling out some eggs.

“I’m trying. Having a place to cook took some getting used to. I burned eggs my first couple of times, I didn’t even know you could do that...” she said, sounding annoyed at the failure still.

Rosalee laughed and set to work to create some eggs and pancakes. Sloane smiled when the plate was set down and started eating. As she did though, her phone rang. She grabbed it from the guest room quickly as she chewed and swallowed another bite. “Larson.”

“Hey Sloane,” Hank said. “We got another dead officer…”

“Shit…Okay, where,” she said.

“I’ll text you the location. Nick and I will meet you there.”

“Right, see you there.” She hanged up and went back out to Rosalee. “I told you about someone killing a state trooper, right?”

She nodded. “Yeah…”

“Well, that wasn’t his first and it’s not his last. He’s targeting people in uniform and they found another one,” Sloane sighed, going over to quickly eat the few bites that were left.

“Oh my god,” she said. “Do you know why?”

“We think it’s wesen…” she said hesitantly around her food.

“Can I help then?”

Sloane paused and remembered what Nick said about them relying on Monroe and Rosalee too much. She shook her head. “Probably, but let’s talk later. You’ve had to deal with a lot already.”

Rosalee frowned but nodded. “Alright…”

“I gotta get ready to go. You still got your key?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll lock up when I leave. Be careful.”

Sloane nodded, running to get dressed and head out.

\----------------------

Monroe took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. He knocked on his parents hotel room door and waited. He could hear them talking on the other side, his father still sounding angry and growly. He’d never worried about his parents hurting him, not really, but his father could get agitated and hang on to a grudge for a long time.

The door opened and he stepped inside. His mother looked worried—and he hated that she did—and his father looked predictably ready to lecture him again. “Morning…” he sighed. “Look…Maybe last night is my fault. I should have told you about Rosalee.”

“Yes, you should have,” his father snapped.

Monroe breathed again, remembering his mediations as he tried to keep calm. “I didn't know you were gonna come out right away, okay? I thought I had a little more time.”

“How long have you been seeing her?” his mother asked, knowing the answer .

“…Right, okay, I put it off longer than I should have. I should have said something. But that shouldn't even matter!” he said more desperately, trying to get them to understand.

“It does matter! These mixed marriages never work,” his father said

“We are not living 100 years ago!”

“There are reasons we stick to these rules,” he said, sounding every bit like he did chastising him as a child for any indiscretion.

“Yeah. Ignorance and bigotry,” Monroe snapped back, gritting his teeth.

“Bart, let him talk,” his mother said, ever the voice of reason.

“I don't have to let him do anything,” Bart huffed defiantly. “And I can't believe you're still doing this vegetarian crap,” he continued, deciding to just let it all out. “Why don't you just wear a sign saying you're ashamed of who you are?”

Monroe glared. “I'm not ashamed of anything.”

“Oh, yeah,” he scoffed. “I saw that with you and your Grimm.”

“Are you serious? Nick is different,” Monroe defended.

“Oh, he's a vegetarian too?”

Monroe felt his patience snap “Would you lay off with the vegetarian thing?! God, you…you have never understood, never even tried…”

“We have,” his mom said earnestly.

“I haven’t,” Bart snorted. His wife shot him an aggravated look but he crossed his arms. “You were fine eating meat for years and just all of a sudden, you can’t stand it? Can’t stand hunting? Doing this hippie yoga crap. I didn’t raise you to be ashamed of what you are but you run from it every chance you get!”

“I do not! I just choose how I want to live my life and I don’t like what meat does to me!”

“And you’d rather forget you’re a Blutbad and marry a Fuchsbau? That-that I could maybe forgive one day, but being friends with a _Grimm_?! He’ll kill you one day!”

“He won’t! He’s my best friend!”

“ _Best_ friend?” he practically shouted. “Best executioner more likely! And you’ll be too damned weak to defend yourself because you only eat that vegetarian crap-”

“I ate a child!” he yelled. He panted, wanting to pull those words back, but choked back a sob. “Is that what you wanted to hear? That I ate a murdered child?”

The silence was deafening as his parents finally seemed to hear him. “You…what?” Bart asked. His mother had a hand over her mouth.

Monroe swallowed his shame and looked at them. “Not on purpose…It was when I went to Germany, when I was 18. I met a group of Blutbad there and they invited me to hang with them. They had what I thought was pork but…it wasn’t. I didn’t find out till the next morning. And ever since then, meat makes me sick.”

“Why…why didn’t you ever tell us?” his mother asked, looking hurt and concerned and worried.

“Because part of me _was_ ashamed,” he admitted. “Not of our family or being a Blutbad—I still do have a lot of pride in our history. But that…that was the first time I came face to face, first hand, with the awful things Blutbader have done. That all that wasn’t in the dark ages, like you told me. This was a child, an innocent kid they just butchered for the hell of it less than 15 years ago. And I’ve seen and heard more of that over the years. I was ashamed that I was with them, even unintentionally, because can you really “civilize” that? Would I just give in and be okay with it? And…I was ashamed that I liked it. And I didn’t know how to tell you all or what you would say…”

“You should’ve told us,” his father said, looking conflicted. “We could’ve…I don’t know, gotten you therapy or something—”

“Therapy? Dad, that’s…Becoming vegan and getting in control of my instincts was my therapy,” he sighed. “And it shouldn’t matter _why_ I did it. It was my choice, and you’ve never supported or respected it! Just like with Rosalee.”

“I don’t see it as respectable, you’re denying who you are!”

“I’m _not,_ ” he said. “I’m choosing what parts of my heritage I’m going to respect and do and what parts I’m _not_.”

“Then you wouldn’t be doing something so stupid! You can get over this without denying it!”

Monroe stared him down, gritting his teeth. He could feel his eyes going red, and he could see his father’s eyes reddening as well. But he took a breath and willed it away. “…You know, maybe part of me was also scared to tell you because you’d say something like that. That this is what we are. That you’d approve of what they did, because you always talk about how proud we are as Blutbad.”

“Monroe!” his mother said aghast.

“How dare you,” his father growled. “We don’t hunt children! Or humans! We’re not animals!”

“Grandpa did. And that wasn’t that long ago. He killed innocent people,” Monroe shot back.

“He was old and confused,” Bart snapped. “And the Grimms killed him!”

“To stop him from hurting other people,” Monroe said. “I don’t like it, but I liked what he did less. And after what I’ve seen, I understand it even if I don’t want to. And Nick wasn’t the one that killed him.”

“But if it was now, would you kill your own family?” he asked seriously.

“…I’d do everything I could not to. But if it meant keeping them from becoming monsters you told me we shouldn’t be, yes. Or were those just words so you could seem civilized?”

Bart growled and Alice put her hand on his arm. “Monroe, this is…you can’t just drop all this on us and expect us to be okay with it.”

“…I know. And I’m sorry for that. And I understand the Grimm thing, I do. I’m not asking you forgive the Grimms or change.  But can’t you understand, I love Rosalee? Can’t you give her, give us a chance?” Bart didn’t say anything, but still looked at him practically ready for a fight. His mother looked torn, glancing between them, unsure what to say or do. Monroe shook his head. “This is pointless, I knew it… Look, I just came to say that I'm sorry you don't care to understand who I am or listen to anything that I have to say. But I do love Rosalee, and I'm gonna marry her. And if that destroys the family, then so be it.”

“Oh, please don't say that,” his mother said, putting her hands on his shoulders pleadingly.

Monroe looked back sadly. “You're not giving me any choice.”

Bart just glared, looking torn but angry. “You just refuse to respect who we are! Hypocrite!”

Monroe didn’t even get angry and just shook his head again. “I'm sorry you feel that way. But I’m done living in the past. If you want to stay there, then…Good-bye.” He turned, heading out the door. He blinked a few times once he was outside it, trying to control his emotions, before heading back down to the street.

\----------------------

When Sloane got to the crime scene, Nick, Hank, Renard and Wu were there already. She jogged up to them, looking around what looked like a campsite just off the road. She nodded to Nick, who nodded back. “What do we got?”

“Not a good way to start the day,” Wu said, gesturing for them to follow.

“Where's the body?” Renard asked.

“Over there,” Wu said. “Some of it. Body's kind of all over the place. Victim is Thomas Mart, works for the forest service. Checking out an illegal campfire where a deer was poached. Reported it, was investigating, call went dead. They sent out a team to investigate and found the Chevy pickup we've been looking for, the one stolen from the hotel manager. Mart also reported seeing a jeep here. Kansas plates. We got an APB out on it.” They came to the sight and they all froze a moment in shock. There was a smoldering campfire, a dead deer, the aqua and tan truck, and several pieces of a human body thrown about like a ripped paper doll. “That would be Mart's right arm. Left leg is over there in two pieces. Looks like animals got to him after the attack. Anyway, I hope so. I'd hate to think this happened to him while he was alive.”

Nick was looking around and glanced at Sloane who nodded with a resigned sigh. They both had a feeling he had been alive, at least during part of it. “You said there were two cars reported,” Nick said.

“Yeah.”

“He couldn't have driven both cars here,” Renard said, following their train of thought immediately.

“That means there's more than one killer,” Hank nodded.

“Oh…great,” Wu muttered.

\-----------------

Juliette headed into the shop, the bell ringing above her head. “Hey.”

Rosalee looked up from mixing something at the counter and smiled. “Juliette.”

“How are you doing?” she asked delicately.

Rosalee smiled tiredly. “Oh, a pleasant mixture of sadness, anger, resentment, and bitterness.”

Juliette grimaced in sympathy. “Nick told me. I'm so sorry. That's why I came over. I didn't know if maybe you wanted a shoulder to pound on.”

“Oh, thanks. Really, I’m feeling a lot better now. Sloane got me out of there fast and took care of me. Then I was able to talk with Monroe and…we came to an understanding I suppose.” She set her mixture aside. “How's Nick doing? I heard he had his own meet and greet with Monroe's parents.”

“He feels really bad about that,” Juliette said with wince.

“Monroe was in no place to deal with anybody last night. What did Nick need? Maybe I can help.”

“Sloane didn’t tell you?”

Rosalee smiled. “She was not her usual blunt, forthcoming self. I think she was trying to pull back and be overly considerate. But I know she got a call about another murder this morning…”

Juliette nodded emphatically. “It is the most terrifying series of murders, and the worst part is, the killer has been scalping his victims. Anyway, Nick thinks it's wesen, but why am I telling you this right now?” Juliette said, mind catching up. “Sloane’s right, you don't need to hear about this.”

“Wait, the victims were scalped?” Rosalee asked, trying to get specific.

Juliette nodded as if to say _“can you believe”_. “Yeah…”

The door and closed again with the jingle of the bell and they looked up to see Monroe walking in. Monroe looked surprised but smiled. “Hey, Juliette.”

“Hey, Monroe.”

Rosalee tried to smile but it wasn’t as bright as usual. “How did it go?”

Monroe breathed deep and sighed, but tried to smile as well. “Let's just say it went.” He looked at Juliette apologetically. “I feel really bad about what happened to Nick last night. Some of the things I said...”

“It's okay, Monroe. He feels really awful too,” Juliette said.

Rosalee interjected quickly. “Did Nick tell you why he stopped by?”

Monroe shook his head. “No, no, my folks kind of got in the way of that. Did Sloane?”

“No, but Juliette told me. Somebody is murdering people and scalping them. Nick thinks it's wesen,” she said meaningfully. Monroe’s eyes widened and he paled slightly.

“That's not why I came by, just so we're all clear,” Juliette said quickly.

Monroe wasn’t listening. “Caccia Morta…” Rosalee was nodding, thinking the same thing. “But it can't be, could it? I mean, that's what it sounds like. If it is, that's really serious. I've got to talk to Nick.” He turned and quickly headed out the door.

“…How bad?” Juliette asked, turning to look at Rosalee. Rosalee just looked at her, worry digging into her now for her friends.

\------------------------------

The rest of Sloane’s afternoon was spent trying to track down information to figure out just how many killers they were dealing with and where they had been recently. Hank showed them the student film he’d shown Renard last night first thing.

“…Is that a…oh, that lizard thing from Star Trek,” she sighed, blanking on the name.

Nick and Hank both looked at one another and then at her. “I keep forgetting, you watched Star Trek,” Hank said with a smile.

Sloane frowned. “Why do you guys always make fun of that?”

“We’re not making fun,” Nick smiled. “You’re just not what people expect for a Trekkie.”

She frowned and then leveled a finger at him. “Watch them. They’re good. I even got to try the newer stuff on that streaming app thing you got me.”

The men looked at one another, and Nick smiled. “You nerd.”

“Oh shut up,” Sloane said, smacking his shoulder. “I take it the long haired guy with a grocery bag is our man?”

“We’re pretty sure,” Hank said. “Not the best picture, but gives us a basic description.”

“He’s not a small man,” Nick sighed.

“I think we can handle him,” Sloane said. “But, let’s see if we can pull up anything else with what we know now.”

They nodded and went back to searches and branches of inquiries. But not before Nick said teasingly. “Make it so, number one…”

Sloane shot him a look that promised retaliation if he kept it up, so he just smiled and turned back to his computer. Hank was the first one with some luck on that front. “Nick, Sloane, I got the registration of the Kansas plates.” They both migrated over to Hank’s desk quickly. “The jeep is registered to a Walter Murphy from Wichita.”

“Is he a cop?” Nick asked.

“Corporal, U.S. army.”

Sloane looked at the army photo of a young black man. “Is he alright?”

“Reported AWOL three weeks ago,” Hank sighed.

“Well, I don't think we're looking for Walter Murphy from Wichita,” Nick said, just as his phone started ringing.

“I don't either,” Hank agreed.

Nick picked up his ringing phone and a look of resolve came over him as he picked up. “Monroe,” he said. Sloane looked up and subconsciously trained her ear on the phone again.

“Nick, we need to talk,” Monroe said rather urgently.

“Hey, I'm sorry about last night,” Nick said, sounding honestly regretful.

“Yeah, I'm sorry too, dude. Really,” Monroe said, still talking urgently. “But we got bigger wesen to fry. Caccia Morta, you ever heard of them?”

“Caccia Morta,” Nick said, looking over at Hank and Sloane. They nodded back. “Yeah. I think we just read about them in the trailer. That's the same thing as Wildesheer, right?”

“Close enough.”

“That's why I was coming over last night.”

“Well, you better come over now, because this is way more complicated than your average wesen rampage. But just you and Sloane, okay? This is too dangerous for a Kerseite Schlich Kennen. At least until we figure out how to deal with this.”

“Okay…We’ll head over to your place then.”

“Right, see you there.” They hanged up and Nick looked at Hank and Sloane. “Sloane, Monroe wants to talk to us…Hank, I know you want to help, but Monroe thinks its safer you stay here.”

Hank frowned. “Seriously?”

“Hey, he knows as well as we do how much you’ve dealt with and fought against with us. He says unless we can get a solid plan, it might be better you wait.

Hank didn’t look happy but sighed. “Alright. I’ll keep doing some work here then.”

“Thanks. I promise, we’ll keep you in the loop.” He nodded to Sloane, who followed quickly.

\----------------------

Monroe had not anticipated his father being on his front porch when he got home. After their fight earlier, he expected his father would never want to see him again. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see him and his tone reflected that. “What are you doing here?”

Bart looked as put out as him as he stood. “I was on my way to the airport...And your mother wasn't with me.”

Monroe stared at him accusatory disbelief. “What did you do?”

He lifted and dropped his hands in frustration. “I said I was leaving. I thought she'd come with me, but she didn't. So I came here, but she's not here either.”

Monroe was worried but still more frustrated and moved past him to unlock his door. “Look, dad, I don't have time for this, okay? Nick is on his way over here right now, and I don't want another episode.”

Bart followed him in, worry in his voice. “The Grimm is coming here?” Monroe gave him a withering look and Bart huffed. “I didn't come here to argue.”

“Oh, what, you got a few more cultural clichés for me to live by, or what?” This time Bart looked at his son in frustration but Monroe just shook his head. “Dad, listen, I have no interest in trying to change you or mom, okay? But I do have a very real interest in living my life my own way.”

“I get it,” Bart said, trying to stay calm. “But believe me, that's not the real problem. This friendship, if that's what you call it, with the Grimm, it goes against everything we believe in!”

Monroe was already rolling his eyes before he finished. “You don't know Nick.”

“Know a Grimm? How can that be possible?” his father sputtered.

“The fact that I'm standing here is proof that it is indeed possible! And you know what else? He’s not the only Grimm I’m friends with!” Monroe said, almost triumphantly.

Bart gaped. “What? There’s more?”

“Yeah. There’s another Grimm here in Portland. Her name is Sloane and she’s my friend too,” Monroe said, practically rubbing his face in it. “Nick is going to be my best man! Or at least he will if he agrees…And Sloane is probably going to be Rosalee’s maid of honor because they’re best friends. Because we’re all friends. And they’re friends with other wesen too! We look out for each other, and we stop crime!”

“You can’t be serious,” Bart said, trying to breathe calmly. “You’re trying to what, be a superhero? This isn’t some Saturday morning kids show!”

Monroe sighed. “Look, I didn't plan on introducing you to Nick, or Sloane. That was an accident just happened. And let me just say...” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “Let me just say... the first time I met Nick, it didn't go so well either. I attacked him because he was lurking around my house, having seen me woge in passing and thought I’d done something another Blutbad had done. Kidnapping a little girl. I can be proud of what I am, but acknowledge we have done some horrible things, so I can’t blame him for thinking that. And you know what? We got to know each other, dad. And we started to trust each other. He has saved my life, and I've saved his. And the same goes for Sloane when she came, though I admit that was a slower process…And she had every right to distrust Blutbad and wesen in general given what she’s been through. But you know what? We stopped a Blinde Jaeger together and now I’m happy to say we’re friends.”

“I cannot believe this,” Bart said, reeling.

“Well believe it. I guess I just get to keep being your little disappointment,” he said bitterly. “Vegetarian, loves a Fuchsbau, friends with Grimms…Oh, and child eater, since you seem to just gloss over that still.”

“That wasn’t you’re fault! We would’ve understood!”

“Why? Why do you excuse that, and what Grandpa did? Were you proud? Is it something you want to do? To go back to that?” Monroe asked desperately.

 “No! Things are different, we don’t _have_ to hunt like that anymore, but that doesn’t mean we should just curl up and—” he said, trying to get his point across.

“But you still live by the other old laws!” Monore nearly yelled. “You can change some things, but not this stuff about mixing races? Even Sloane, a Grimm brought up as a _Grimm_ , can change her ways drastically. She hated blutbader, but she listened and became my friend rather than judge me or brush it aside when I told her. And Nick was different from the start. I’m different. So why can’t you...?”  He sighed and shook his head. “You know, maybe it's better this way, just out in the open, to deal with or not. But we’re just talking in circles. Nick and Sloane are on their way over here right now, and I'm gonna help him.”

Bart hardened his face. “And how are you going to help him? By killing wesen? Is that how you're gonna help him?”

Monroe started shutting down his anger, just shaking his head and waving away the argument. “I'm not asking for your approval, dad.”

“Who's head are you gonna cut off tonight?” Bart persisted. Monroe looked down. “A Blutbad? A Hundjager? Even if it was a Bauerschwein-” he spat on the floor just mentioning it, “I wouldn't agree!”

A car pulled up to the driveway and Monroe moved towards the door. “Caccia Morta.” He said simply. It almost sounded like a spell, and he wished it would banish him.

Bart’s face morphed from anger to shock and fear, paling. “A Wildesheer?” he gasped.

“They’re here, dad. Just go home,” Monroe said.

“You can't go up against the Wildesheer!” he said almost desperately.

Monroe gritted his teeth and turned around. “Stop telling me what I can and cannot do! Stop worrying about me, and start worrying about mom.” He opened the door just as Nick and Sloane were coming up to the porch. Nick froze when he saw Bart, and Bart backed up slightly when he saw them. Sloane leaned over a bit, eyeing him over Nick’s shoulder.

“We can do this another time,” Nick said slowly.

“Not with Wildesheer, we can't,” Monroe said. “My dad's leaving. Come on in.” Slowly Nick walked in, Sloane behind him. Bart followed their movement, turning with them so that his back was never to them. When he was in the door way he looked one last time at Monroe before backing out. Monroe closed the door on him.

“…So…That’s your dad?” Sloane asked, trying not to be too awkward.

“Yeah…he was,” Monroe sighed, walking over to the book shelf in his living room. Sloane frowned, glancing at Nick. Nick just shook his head, knowing they should probably leave it for now. Just then they heard what sounded like a wolf howling just out front of the house. It was a mournful sound that even Sloane could feel.

“That sounded not so good,” Nick said.

Monroe sighed and nodded. “Yeah. He's in a not-so-good place right now. But I'm done with that, it’s his problem,” he said with finality. “Guys, you need to know what you're up against this time, because it's bad. It goes way back to something roughly translated as "the wild hunt." It's like the gates of hell open up and let demons loose on the world. So stopping these guys sooner rather than later is kind of where it's at.” He was looking through his shelves as he spoke and moved on to another near the kitchen when he didn’t find what he was looking for.

“We can't find them. We've got no prints, no I.D., no record of where they came from,” Nick said.

“Just a long string of deaths and car thefts…” Sloane added.

“That's what I'm trying to tell you,” Monroe said, flipping through a book. “You don't have to find them. According to legend, the first thing you hear is terrible thunder and howling wind, as if the Wildesheer are being blown right out of hell.”

“Not so encouraging,” Nick said blandly.

“They're hunters, and their life's blood is built upon killing powerful warriors. And it just so happens, the Grimm is like the most powerful warrior of all. See? That's the Grimm there, in the middle.” He showed them and it was a picture of three wildesheer converging on a man with an axe, biting and clawing into him like prey. Monroe chuckled. “This was one of my favorite books when I was a kid because, you know, the Grimm gets obliterated.” Sloane and Nick both looked up slowly, Sloane arching her eyebrow at him while Nick just looked put out.  Monroe looked at them and flushed, coughing. “But... no, that was before... anyway. My guess is, you're the reason they're here.”

“You think they know about us?” Sloane asked.

“Probably Nick at least. You tend to keep a low profile still. All I mean, I think it's no coincidence they're in Portland. There are a lot more cop/warriors in like New York City, or... “

Nick sighed and closed the book. “Well, don't I feel special?”

“Listen, the most important thing is, they will be coming after you. So what we can do is pick where it happens. And I highly suggest that's not my house, so we should be leaving,” he said, going to grab his jacket from over the couch.

“Isn't there anything in the book about how to fight them?” Nick asked, brandishing the book.

Monroe frowned and shook his head. “Not in that book. They're supposed to win.”

“Never considered wesen would have books like that on us,” Sloane muttered, following him out as Nick tossed the book on the couch.

“So we pick someplace we control,” Nick clarified as they headed for Nick’s car.

“It's got to be wide open, you know? We can see 'em coming, but we got to weapon up first, dude. I need more firepower than my canines.” They climbed in and Nick drove for the trailer. Monroe rattled off a few other tidbits about the Caccia Morta—all the horror stories his family used to tell about them. “So, you know how many there are?” Monroe asked as he B-lined for the weapons cabinet.

“We think there are at least two,” Sloane said.

“Well, better than three,” he sighed.

“I wouldn’t rule it out,” she said, remembering the Gelemcaedus issue before. Nick meanwhile was looking for the book with the wildesheer passage in it. Sloane found it and set it in front of him while she looked through some of the other weapons.

“Let’s see,” Monroe said, going through the closet. “Kanabo. Crossbow. Ogre gun,” he said with a smile, pulling it out to look at it and find ammo. Finding none, he turned instead to a shotgun and started loading it.

“Listen to this,” Nick said. “‘The vile cloaks of scalped hair they wear into battle seem to protect them from weapons, making them nearly invulnerable. I do believe that, like Samson, they have a weakness. If one could take their hair as they had taken the hair of others, it would weaken them. But I was unable to get close enough and was forced to retreat before I could test my theory.’”

“Samson? Like Samson and Delilah?” Sloane asked.

“Oh yeah, there’s been theories regarding some of the legends and wesen. I know there was debate on Samson, but most agree Delilah was a Grimm in the wesen community. Wait, do we need to find a lady to seduce them?” Monroe asked worriedly. He looked at Sloane who frowned back.

“Not gonna happen.”

“Well, he didn't get a chance to test his theory, but just in case he's right,” he stood and went to the closet, plucking two daggers off the door and handing one to Monroe. “Let's take these for backup.”

“I got mine, and the crossbow,” Sloane said.

“Where do you want to do this?” Monroe asked.

“How about the quarry?” Nick suggested.

“Plenty of open ground. Should work. Let's go.” They were just grabbing their things when there was a rumble of thunder that shook the trailer, and then a crack of lightening lighting it up from the outside as the wind pushed and rocked the trailer. They all froze and looked at each other, remembering Monroe’s book saying that was like an introduction for the Wildesheer. Nick drew his handgun and went for the door, Sloane and Monroe filing up behind him wordlessly. Slowly he opened the door, stepping down with the gun raised, looking around. The other two followed, making a small triangle to see in all directions with their weapons up. But nothing seemed to be around them.

Monroe breathed out, lowering the shot gun. “Okay, so... My book could have been wrong,” he said.

The moment he let his guard down, there was what sounded like a crack of thunder a huge man came rushing out from behind another trailer with a roaring shout. He grabbed the gun before Monroe could raise it back up, forcing it away, and then around to actually flip him over. But he focused in on Nick immediately, moving for him. Nick fired several shots, but none of them seemed to even slow the man down. Raising the crossbow, Sloane tried to fire at him but he grabbed the arrow out of the air and broke it like a toothpick.

Sloane felt an actual stab of fear for a moment as he lumbered toward them, but pushed forward with her knife. He smacked her aside like a fly and she skidded over the ground, and he still moved for Nick. He slammed Nick against the trailer and struck him, and Nick’s retaliating blow was shaken off with no issue. Monroe was on his feet, trying to aim for the Wildesheer, but it was hard as they moved around and he had to adjust his aim quickly. So focused was he that he didn’t notice another already woged wildesheer moving in.

“Behind you!” Nick shouted. Monroe quickly turned and fired, but the creature only jolted with the blow and continued forward, once again wrestling with him and the gun.

Sloane looked between them for a moment before rushing for the one attacking Nick. She body slammed him, knocking him off kilter, then moved away before he could grab her. “C’mon, asshole! He’s not the only Grimm on the roster!” she shouted, giving Nick time to get back on his feet. He stared at her and then woged, his features turning more dog-like with gray fur and a snout, but with rows of razor sharp teeth. “Yeah, I see you! What are you going to do about it?” He snarled and rushed her, and she dodged and brought her hands up in a layered fist into his snout. There was a slight yelp and he moved back, a bit of blood trickling from his nose, but he just snarled more. Sloane backed away as Nick tried to punch him in his side. When she moved to rush him as well, they were both batted away and nearly into a large dirt truck. Sloane grabbed Nick’s arm and pulled him under with her to get out of immediate attack range.

Monroe meanwhile was struggling with his opponent, woged out and snarling back at him, but was tossed back against the truck and fell to the ground. He quickly rolled under with them when the grabbed him to get him away from their opponents, panting. He un-woged and looked at them. “Okay…what do we do now?”

“Get to the hair!” Nick said.

“Easier said than done-AAAH!” He tried to claw at the dirt as they dragged him out and both Sloane and Nick rushed back out with knives drawn. Nick jumped on the back of one, trying to gather his hair, while Sloane slashed at the other to get him to let go of Monroe and focus her. Nick was thrown from the thrashing Wildesheer  and he cursed because he couldn’t cut any of the hair. He was then struck and went skidding across the ground. Monroe soon joined him, but Sloane danced out of reach and slid back over to them still on her feet.

“Slaone, you and I take the guy on the right. Monroe, go for the guy on the left.”

They all tensed and held their breath as another, even larger wildesheer stepped out from behind another truck.

“And…what do we do about that big guy in the middle?” Monroe asked.

“Told you not to just say there were two…Bad things come in three,” Sloane sighed. “I got him. If I can take down a Wolkeshaber, I can take down him.”

“I seem to remember we helped you with that…” Monroe said.

“We’re all going to have our hands full,” Nick said with a huff. “Better get started.”

They all adjusted their holds on their knives, Monroe woging again, and then rushed forward. Sloane dodged a blow from hers, while Nick and Monroe were immediately in the thick of a tussle. When he tried to strike again, Sloane grabbed his arm and plunged her knife into his bicep as hard as he could, through a seam in the hair coat— _oh god, I’m touching it!_ She thought with an internal scream. He roared and then grabbed her by the hair, pulling, and she yelled as her roots protested. He would just rip her scalp off if she wasn’t careful, so she took the knife out and aimed for his hand. He let go when she slashed him and she moved away again. Glancing at the others, she gritted her teeth to see them struggling still. Monroe was in a full body hold and it was moments before teeth would sink into his shoulder. She was trying to think what to do, who to go for while still dealing with the big man.

“GET AWAY FROM MY SON!” a shout came. Then another figure descended on the Wildesheer from one of the large trucks above, grabbing him around the neck and wrenching him away. It was the opening Sloane needed as for a fraction of a second the one she was up against was distracted and turned away from her. Jumping up, she wrapped her legs around his torso like she wanted a piggy-back ride, grabbed a fist full of his hair, and sliced her knife through. She was startled when the hair actually spirted blood, and he gave a shriek before un-woging. In shock, and perhaps sudden death, he fell to his knees and she quickly jumped up when he landed face first. “It…It works! Cut their hair!”

Nick was pushed down by the one he was fighting, a hand around his throat. One handed and the man above him was overpowering him easily it felt. He had his hand raised with a nasty looking stone knife reading to cut into him.

And then the world went blank. Nick felt his heart slow and the world around him become both too quiet and too loud. He couldn’t hear Sloane and Monroe yelling for him, but he could hear the wildesheer’s heartbeat above him. He paused for a fraction of a second as Nick’s skin went paper-white, briefly looking confused. Nick growled and suddenly gripped his fingers tightly into the arm of the hand around his throat. He tightened his grasp and then there was a sudden _snap_ as something broke beneath his fingers. With a grunt the wildesheer backed away, his hand dangling at a bad angle. Nick had just broken his arm with his bare hand.

But that wasn’t enough. Nick got to his feet, growling low again as he went for him and grabbed his face in his hand, smashing his head against the truck behind him before he could react, faster than he could normally move. And he pulled him back to do it again. And again. Tang. _Tang. TANG._

Sloane was shocked a moment before rushing forward and grabbing Nick’s arm. “Nick, stop! Stop, he’s down! You just need to cut his hair!” Nick turned his reddened eyes to her, wrenching his arm out of her grip with an angry grunt. He then turned to her, letting go of the wildesheer. He was dazed, and there was blood on the container where Nick had been repeatedly bashing his head. Given their hardy bodies, he must’ve been hitting him into it hard enough that it would normally crack a humans skull like an egg. And he wasn’t stopping there, he was advancing on her, hand raised as if to grab her. Before he could, she slapped him hard across the face. “Wake up, dammit!”

Nick blinked at the slap and then shook his head, his skin starting to turn pink again. “…Sloane…?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” she sighed. “You back in your right mind?”

“…What did I do?” he asked, worried.

“Nothing you shouldn’t be, exactly, just a little too mindless.” She then blanched and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, pulling him away as the reeling wildesheer made a swipe with his knife where Nick’s shoulder had been. “Get his hair!”

Nick dodged another swaying, almost drunken swipe with the knife. The wildesheer was apparently concussed but still trying to fight. Maneuvering around him while Sloane dodged back as well, he managed to get a grip on his hair, he quickly brought his own steel knife through the strands. They bled as they were cut, making him grimace and thankful that their own hair didn’t do that when he got a trim. The wildesheer seized up a moment, then dropped to his knees and to the ground.

Monroe had managed to get the upper hand against his own opponent during the whole scuffle and cut the hair of his as it tried to attack his father. All three wildesheers were down and they panted in relief. Monroe’s father was still woged, looking at the dead wildesheer in surprise and then up at them. Sloane was surprised how much it didn’t scare her to see the red eyes now. She’d really gotten used to Monroe.

Monroe meanwhile unwoged and reached down. “Dad!”

He grabbed his hand and let him help him to his feet. He turned back to his human form and looked down at the confused, disbelieving look on Monroe’s face. “You didn’t know what you were up against…” He glanced at Sloane and Nick. “Even if you are friends with a couple of Grimms, I couldn’t see you die…” He then looked down at the wildesheer. “How did you know how to kill them?”

“We didn’t. Nick’s ancestors did,” Monroe smiled.

“We can confirm the theory at least,” Sloane said, licking at her split lip and using a pack of tissues from her jacket to wipe her knife. “By the way, hair bleeding when you cut it? Gross and kind of freaky. Hair coat still freakier.”

Bart shook his head in disbelief. “I didn’t think it was possible to fight on the same side as a Grimm…”

Monroe frowned, ready to argue again. “I told you. They’re different.”

He nodded slowly, tense but not as ready to fight as before. “Sometimes you need to see something with your own eyes,” he said. He gestured to the wildesheer. “All my life, I've heard about these guys. Your great grandfather, whenever it would storm, he'd get scared. He told us kids, if the Wildesheers ever came back, it meant something really bad was going to come next.”

Monroe looked at Nick and Sloane, sharing their looks of trepidation, before he looked back at his father. “How "really bad"?”

He shook his head. “I don't know. Just something, somewhere, was going to happen that would change the world.”

“…Oh…fun,” Sloane sighed. Thunder cracked and they all tensed a moment, looking around. Nothing else came though.

Then a phone rang and they all got into a fighting stance for a moment before relaxing as Monroe patted his jacket. “Sorry, that’s me…” He pulled it out and paused. “It’s mom…” Bart perked up, then sighed in relief. Monroe opened the call, putting it up to his ear. “Mom…hey. Why am I out of breath? Uh…well…it’s a long story. Um, dad’s here though, he was looking for you. …You went to Rosalee’s shop?” he asked in surprise, glancing at his father. “…You did what?! No, I mean…I’m just surprised. How…did that go? …Good? Really?...No, I’m happy! I mean, that you would do that means a lot to me…Um, do you want to explain it to dad though? …In person? …Okay, but I’m bringing Nick. And, uh…another Grimm…Yes, there’s two…No, I think you’ll like her…Yeah, okay. We’ll meet you at my place. Um…if you can pick up some food, I’d appreciate it. …Thanks.” He hanged up and looked at his dad. “So…Mom wants to meet at my place.” He looked at Nick and Sloane. “You two are coming. She’s grabbing dinner for us.”

“Monroe,” Bart started, not looking pleased.

“Mom has spoken, dad. Do you want to disobey her?” he said seriously.

He paused and then sighed. “Fine…”

Nick nodded. “Can I invite Juliette?”

Monroe nodded. “Yeah. Knowing my mom, she’ll get enough food to feed a small army.”

“We should call Renard too,” Sloane said. “We’ve got our three killers, and they’re all dead. Gonna need a cover story of some kind.”

Nick nodded and patted his jacket before looking up. “I left my phone in the trailer, I’ll be right back.” He headed up inside.

Sloane looked at Bart and tilted her head. “…Are you the one related to Olaf Ackerman?”

He looked at her in confusion and narrowed his eyes. “No…That’s my wife’s uncle. Why?”

Sloane shrugged. “He worked with my grandmother in the war in a resistance group. Just wanted to let you know, your son is actually living up to a legacy of fighting for the greater good with us,” she said, walking towards her car. “Oh, and my oma thought he was funny! I’m guessing he gets that from his mom’s side too!”

Bart turned his incredulous gaze back to Monroe who was trying not to laugh. “Yeah…apparently Uncle Olaf had some wilder adventures than we thought…”

Bart sighed, rubbing over his eyes. “I’m not sure how many more surprises I can handle…”

\------------------------

“You did what?” Bart barked.

Alice just bolstered herself up. “Rosalee and I did the [Vertrautheiten](http://grimm.wikia.com/wiki/Vertrautheiten).”

Bart was at a loss for words. Nick and Juliette looked at Sloane, but she shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “No clue.”

“It’s a sort of sacred act of bonding,” Rosalee said, helping set the table with them. “A way to kind of…imprint ourselves on each other. A sign of trust.”

“It was my idea,” Alice said. She looked up at her husband with a determined glint in her eyes. “I refuse to cut ties with our son. He’s our family. He’s always been good and kind—more so than us it seems. And maybe he’s right. Maybe there’s a difference in being proud of who we are as Blutbader, and staying in the past. From what Rosalee’s told me, both of these Grimms have risked their lives for Monroe before, and he’s done a lot of good helping them. For humans and wesen. If they can evolve with the times, then so should we.”

Bart frowned, looking hesitant but not as confrontational. “…It’s not that easy, Alice…this is how I was raised…”

“I know, me too…but I want to try. For Monroe.”

Monroe smiled and hugged his mom. “I know it’ll be slow going, I’m not expecting you to be accepting of this in one night…You trying means a lot to me though.”

She smiled and hugged him back happily. Bart sighed and nodded. “Okay…okay, I’ll try too.”

Monroe smiled and hugged his father too.

Despite that though, it was an awkward dinner. Sloane, Nick, Monroe and Bart were all bruised and bloody from the fight. It was quiet, and tense, all of them sitting around the table. Nick, being closest to the ham—and Sloane was grateful she wasn’t kosher because it was good and she was hungry—was slicing off bits for them for another round. Monroe was eating mainly salad, roasted vegetable samosas and drinking wine.

Juliette, bless her heart, tried to lighten the mood. “So, this wedding stuff is pretty exciting, huh?” she said brightly. “Have you guys set a date yet?”

 Sloane tried to catch her eye and make a subtle “No!” motion, but it was too late. Bart woged, then Monroe, then Alice, then Rosalee, all tense and ready for a fight. Both she and Nick stood, Nick holding the knife and Sloane grabbing the large serving fork. Juliette looked between them in shock.

“Okay, everyone calm down!” Nick said.

“We’ve all had one hell of a night already. Let’s just relax,” Sloane ordered tersely.

They all looked at them before woging back. Alice and Bart looked shamefaced after their talk earlier, and Monroe and Rosalee looked worried. “Sorry,” Bart said, chewing slowly. “This is just…going to take a little getting used to.”

Sloane and Nick put their cutlery down slowly and returned to their seats. Looking at one another, they both could tell they were hoping for the best to come.

Later, as Sloane was getting ready to head home, Alice walked up to her. “Um…Ms. Larson?” she said a bit awkwardly. There was a touch of wariness there, Sloane could tell.

“…Sloane is fine,” she said, adjusting her jacket.

“Sloane then,” she said, taking a breath. “Bart mentioned that you, um…that your grandmother knew my uncle?”

Sloane nodded. “Yeah, she did. They were part of a resistance group. Together.”

Alice blew out a breath and glanced back at Monroe. “…Uncle Olaf was a lot like Monroe. My mother tried stay in touch, but they butted heads a lot too…I remember one time though, he told me that it was smart to be cautious when it came to Grimms because some would kill you on sight. But there were some who knew what they were supposed to be.”

“Supposed to be?” she asked in confusion.

“Balance keepers is what he said. That they can be as human and as monstrous as we can be. I didn’t really get that but…if he had been friends with a Grimm once…” She looked down sadly. “A lot of our family and others looked down at him for saying such things…But I always remembering him staying funny and kind. Like Monroe.”

“…Did you want to read her journal that mentions him?” Sloane offered slowly.

She looked surprised. “You would…loan that to me? Really?”

“Yeah. Monroe’s read it, but it’s better reading it in person, right?” she said, nodding. It was odd to offer but it felt right.

“…Thank you, I’d like that,” she said, smiling slightly. “We’ll be sticking around for a little bit, getting to know Rosalee and such. But…we’re still going to stay at a hotel. Easing into things.”

“…Y’know, I did attack your son the first time we met. I was ready to kill him.” Alice tensed, looking ready to fight, so she pressed on quickly. “Nick saved him and Rosalee from me. And…I’m grateful he did. They’ve been good friends to me. Better than I deserve sometimes…”

She relaxed slightly, glancing at Nick. “He saved Monroe from another Grimm?”

“Oh yeah. He’s got this annoyingly persistent way of making you a better person,” she said with a long suffering sigh. “But you have my word, Monroe and Rosalee are safe from me. And Nick…we try to find alternate ways to stop wesen than just outright killing them.”

Alice smiled. “Well…Thank you then.”

“No problem. But, uh, I was trying to say, bringing that up, that I get the whole change is hard thing. I don’t blame you or your husband for being kind of resistant to the whole thing. I resisted this for a while too. But honestly…I’m…happy? Which is something I…didn’t think I would be,” she said honestly. _Ever…_ she added mentally. “So, change can be good, even if it’s hard. Though honestly, I kind of wish it would slow down a bit so I didn’t feel like I was in a tilt-a-whirl all the time. But then you gotta be adaptive I guess to live.”

She smiled a bit more. “My…you’re wise for your age.”

Sloane flushed a bit. “Yeah, well…I’ve been through a lot. Anyway, I’ll bring the book to Monroe and you can leave it with him if you rather.”

Alice nodded again, looking at her thoughtfully. “Thank you, again.”

Sloane nodded and headed back out the door to her car.

\-----------------------------------

For a few days, Nick and Sloane let Monroe and Rosalee have time with Monroe’s parents. Thankfully things quieted down. Hank had taken a look at their bruises and split lips when they came back into work and quipped that he was glad now he’d stayed behind. When they related everything that had happened, he was surprised but nodding his head. He agreed that giving them all some space was probably the best thing right now.

Luckily, crime was a bit quiet for those few days at least while their bruised skin, bruised ribs, and various scrapes healed. Sloane was getting grateful for those little moments. Before the hunt was all she had. Now she had a place to recuperate, people to share that with, and Cable and Netflix.

When her phone rang while she was watching an old Kung Fu movie and she paused it while grabbing her phone from the coffee table. Looking at the number, she recognized it right away and opened the line. “Gallin?”

“Good evening, Sloane. How are you doing?”

“Fine, I got the night off. You?”

“Fine, fine…I, um…I have the back room cleared out now. I’m ready whenever you two are”

Sloane took a breath but nodded. “Okay…I’ll call Nick and we’ll get over there as soon as we can. I’ll call you with a time.”

“That’d be good,” Gallin said. “I brought my camera here so I’ll be ready when you are.”

“Great. Thank you, Gallin.”

“Of course, we want to help as best we can.”

“‘We’?”

“My, uh, contact and I. Anyway, just let me know when you’re heading over, I’m free all this week.”

“Okay. Talk to you later then.”

They hanged up and Sloane sighed before quickly pulling up Nick’s number.

Nick was looking over some notes for a case at home when his phone rang with _Bad Reputation_ by Joan Jett. “Hey Sloane, what’s up?”

“Gallin called me,” she said, getting right to the point. “She’s set up for getting the video, whenever you’re ready.”

He sat back in his chair a bit. “Ah…okay.”

“I know this isn’t great,” she said, “but it’s the best lead we have right now.”

“No, I know…When I’m ready, huh? Not sure I can be…Is she free tonight?”

“Tonight?” she asked, surprised.

“I’d rather just get it over with,” he sighed.

“Okay…let me ask, I’ll let you know.”

“Okay,” he sighed.

Sloane exited the call and dialed Gallin back, feeling a bit like a the string between two cans.

“Sloane? You talked to him already?” she asked, surprised.

“Yeah. He’s not eager to do it, but wants to get it over with. He wanted to know if tonight was good.”

“Tonight? Um…yes, that should be fine, I can get back over there fairly quickly.”

“Thanks. We’ll meet you there.” She closed the call and sighed. She considered again if this was the best idea before picking the phone back up and texting Nick to meet them there. Turning the TV off, she quickly put on and laced up her boots and her jacket.

The drive to the library felt incredibly long, and also too short. It was already closed, as late as it was, but Gallin was in the parking lot waiting under a street light for them. Sloane stepped out and walked up to her. “Hey…thanks for this. We do appreciate helping.”

She smiled, twitching nervously. “It’s okay. I understand he probably doesn’t want to change if he can help it, so this is probably not ideal…”

“None of it is,” she sighed.

She looked at her with a strange expression, tilting her head. “…You like Mr. Burkhardt?”

Sloane blinked and then shrugged. “Yeah. He’s a friend.”

“…I’ll be frank, I didn’t think you had any,” she said. “I mean, from what I’ve heard you were always against attachments.”

“I wasn’t against them, within reason. I had other Grimms and librarians I was on good terms with. It’s just…they’re not easy to maintain, moving around so much,” she said. “When I broke off with some of the others, keeping to myself was easier.”

“Safer, you mean,” she said. Sloane looked at her with a frown. “Hey, I’ve met enough Grimm to know the signs and what they mean. When they’re like you, they’re terrified of getting close to anyone because it could mean losing them…usually they’ve lost someone before.” Sloane frowned a bit more and Gallin quickly held up her hands. “Um, but, I think getting close to someone is great! I mean, it’s lonely out there…and with putting up roots, it’s better to have company.”

“…Yeah. I can see that,” she said.

Nick pulled up them and got out of the car. He headed up to them, looking uncomfortable. “Hey…”

“Hey. You tell Juliette where you are?” she asked.

“Yeah, I said you were trying to help with my problem and had something…” He nodded to Gallin, looking uncomfortable but trying to smile.

Gallin smiled back. “I promise, my contact should be able to help. Follow me,” she turned and headed up to the doors, unlocking them with a key.

They got down to the Grimm Library the same way as before, through the hidden stairs under the table in the rare books room. They bypassed the rows of shelves however, heading for the back wall where there was a large door. Using another key, Gallin opened it and grunted as she pulled it open. Beyond it was another door that she opened. The room inside wasn’t large, maybe about the size of two of their cells down at the station. Against the back wall was about four sets of chains. In that small space the smell of bleach and sanitizer was almost overpowering. It was freshly cleaned and scrubbed. Nick didn’t want to dwell on that too long.

“You want to use these?” Sloane asked, lifting up one set of chains. “You don’t have to…”

“…Yeah. Let’s use them.” He took off his jacket, handing it to Gallin when she offered her hands after handing Sloane the key. She bustled out of the room while Sloane undid the cuffs and Nick stepped forward, turning his back to the wall while she fitted them around his wrists. Gallin returned with a video camera in hand.

“Okay, I’m ready. Go ahead and change,” she said a bit too eagerly.

Nick gave her a dubious look. “I can’t do it on command…that’s part of the problem. It just…happens. Usually when my life is in danger or I’m angry or something…”

“Oh, so like the Hulk,” she said, turning thoughtful.

“You did it that time I hit you, do you want me to try that?” Sloane said.

“Want is not quite the word…Also, not sure it counts if I’m prepared for it-” He oofed when she suddenly hit him in the stomach. Granted it wasn’t as hard as he knew she could hit but he still glared at her.

“Nothing?”

“No, just annoyed…”

“Well, I can keep trying but I’d like to avoid really hurting you…” she said honestly.

“I appreciate that, trust me…”

“Oh, I have something that might work,” Gallin said suddenly. She handed Sloane the camera before she could argue and headed out again.

“…She’s a little too into this…” Nick said.

“Yeah, she can be a little overzealous…when I came looking for something for the Volcanalis she tried to load me up with a lot of other stuff she thought might help. I opted just for the foam grenades, since I didn’t think a mini ballista would fit in my car…” Nick tried to smile and Sloane looked at him with a pinched brow. “Hey…we’ll figure this out, you know?”

“…What if we can’t? I mean…I can’t keep being a cop like this. What if I change on a suspect or during a case? It’s dangerous enough against wesen…” He looked at the cuffs around his wrists. They were heavy and a little rusty and he tried not to think how the rust rubbing off on him looked like dried blood. “I know I have to kill sometimes, when the situation calls for it, but I want to be in control.”

“You will be. We will figure this out,” she said definitively. “One way or another, we’ll figure out what to do. I’m not going to let you deal with this alone.”

Gallin returned then with something in her hands. “Okay, rolling Sloane?”

“Uh, yeah,” she said pointing the camera at Nick. She honestly hadn’t stopped it.

“Great. Mr. Burkhardt, I apologize in advance as this will hurt a bit.”

“What will-”

And without further warning, Gallin fired the tazer in her hands at him. Sloane gaped when the two prongs hit Nicks square in the chest and Nick seized a moment before dropping hard to his knees and almost down if it weren’t for the chains. “Gallin, what the hell?!” she yelled.

Gallin let go of the trigger and looked at her sheepishly. “It was the only thing I could think of that was non-lethal and wouldn’t leave much of a mark…”

“A tazer?!”

“I keep one in my purse for when I work nights!”

“You-” She paused when she heard Nick groan and turned back to him. “Nick?”

He groaned again and looked up, his skin pale again and eyes red. Growling, he lurched up to his knees, glaring at Gallin.

Gallin, for her part, looked fascinated. “Wow…amazing…”

“One word for it,” Sloane sighed, zooming in on the camera to get a close up of his eyes and skin. “Nick? You hear me?”

Nick didn’t answer, still staring at Gallin, rumbling low in his throat like an animal.

“Does he go non-verbal like this often?” Gallin asked, inching closer.

“Yeah, usually it’s grunts and growls. Wait, don’t get close-” she started, realizing Gallin was almost within reach.

Nick suddenly roared and made a swipe for her the moment she was near enough. Gallin shrieked and backed away. Nick growled when his swing was brought up short by the chains. He looked at them, moving them slowly before back at Gallin. He tried to push forward, stared at the chains again, then grabbed one and pulled. The first pull nothing happened, the second and there was the strain of the screws keeping the chains secured, pulling at the wall.

“Oh my God, is he stronger in this form?” she gasped, watching in morbid fascination.

“Stronger, better senses, basically it’s a primal instinct,” Sloane said. “Is this enough?”

“Y-yes, for now I think so. How do we change him back?”

“We gotta snap him out of it.” Sloane moved closer, keeping the camera rolling. “Nick? Nick, it’s me.”

Nick turned and eyed her, then back to Gallin. Growling and pulling the chain again, it actually came out of the wall with a crack and creak of metal failing. Sloane swore, moving back as he swung the end like a mace. He then started pulling at the other. Gallin quickly brought the taswer back up and pressed the trigger, as the anchors were still in his chest. Nick seemed to seize again for a moment, but then he started moving through the current, gripping the prongs and wrenching them from his shirt, then the gun from her fumbling fingers. “Oh no…oh no no no!” Galln said, getting a very bad feeling.

Nick pulled at the other chain again, starting to make it give away from the wall, looking at her like he was going to crush her.

Before he could get the other one free, Sloane moved in between them, blocking his view of Gallin. “Nick! Look at me! Okay? Look at me! You gotta calm down!” Nick stared at her, tilting his head. He was still growling and she inched closer, passing the camera back to a near panicked Gallin who was trying to breathe.  “Calm down…easy…” Nick watched her as she came in close. When she was close enough he moved to grab her by the throat again with his one hand, but she grabbed his hand first. She hissed when the end of the chain with the wall bracket and screws swing around and scratched her thigh through her jeans like a mace, but didn’t back down. He was definitely much stronger than normal as he pushed at her block and nearly overwhelmed her. Thinking back to before, she needed to disorient him so his mind rebooted or whatever it did. “…Gallin, bring me your med kit!”

“What?”

“Do it!”

Gallin jumped and scrambled out. Nick roared and tried to get past her and she used all her strength to push him back. He glared at her, grabbing the chain to try and pull it out of the wall. Gallin came back in with the tackle box that was her medical kit and Sloane grabbed it from her to keep her back. She threw it open and grabbed a small amber glass bottle inside. She shoved the kit back before Gallin could ask and rushed Nick while she wrenched the bottle open. Nick was moving to strike her but she quickly pressed the bottle under his nose.

When he inhaled he reeled back and shook his head. Nick blinked, his hand dropping as if suddenly realizing the weight around it. “I…okay…Okay, I’m back,” he sighed, looking a little stunned and dizzy. “What happened?”

“You sure you’re back?” Sloane asked, not dropping her guard all the way.

“Yeah…yeah, I…I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay, though I’m worried you keep going to choke me. I’ll try not to take it personally…”

“Sorry…” he said again.  He looked at the bottle in her hand. “What was that?”

“Smelling salts,” she sighed, closing the bottle.

“Oh!” Gallin said. “Pain wasn’t doing it, so another external stimulus did it!”

“I just figured it might bring him back to his senses,” she sighed, tossing the bottle back to her. Gallin flinched and fumbled but managed to catch it against her chest with the camera still in her other hand. “Can you get the key for the cuffs?”

“H-huh? Oh, right!” she quickly backed away, still looking shaken, and headed for her desk.

“…Did I hurt her?” Nick asked.

“No, just scared her. Honestly, tasing you all of a sudden, she might’ve needed it…”

“It worked though,” he sighed.  He moved his head around, getting his barrings, and then froze. “Sloane, you’re bleeding!”

“Huh?” She looked down at her thigh where the screws had gotten her and saw she had four scratches staining her jeans. “Shit…Well, I’ve got my tetanus shot, no big deal…”

“No big-did I do that?”

“Not exactly. You pulled the chains from the wall. Screws are sharp.”

Nick looked at the at his wrists and lifted the chain with the broken wall plate in surprise. “I pulled this out of the wall?”

“Y-yes,” Gallin said, coming back in with a key. “They were old, but solid so…it’s rather impressive.” She paused, unsure about getting close. Sloane sighed and took the key, going over to unlock him. Gallin looked down, chagrined and a little shamefaced.

Nick rubbed his wrists, noting a little soreness. “I hope that was good enough…”

“Oh, yes, that should be fine,” Gallin said quickly. “Um…I’ll get it to my contact right away, and I’ll let you know what she says.”

“Okay,” Nick said. “Was there anything else?”

“Not right now, no.”

“Then I think I’m going to go home and rest,” he sighed.

“Agreed,” Sloane said. “Thanks again, Gallin. Though next time, clear it with me before you taze someone…”

“I thought the element of surprise would be best,” she said with a wry smile.

“Maybe, but it wasn’t fun watching…”

“Careful, you’re getting sentimental on me,” Nick said teasingly. Sloane rolled their eyes. Gallin looked between them, a little confused it seemed still. “Gallin, can you treat Sloane’s leg?”

“Ah, sure.”

“It’s fine,” Sloane said. “I can treat it at home.”

“Humor me,” Nick said, gently pushing her towards the doorway and the chairs at the desks beyond.

“I usually do,” she said with mock seriousness.

“Um…Mr. Burkhardt?” Gallin said.

“Yes?”

“…Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you should go.”

“Oh…right, I guess I, uh…freaked you out—”

“Yes, but more than that, um…Sloane’s going to have to take her pants off for me to treat her,” she said, blushing.

Sloane actually blushed as well, and Nick turned red. They glanced at one another and Sloane patted his shoulder. “Yeah, you should go home.”

“Right. I’ll, uh…see you at work.” He said, awkwardly moving around and heading for the door. “Thanks!”

Sloane waved and sighed.

“…He’s nice,” Gallin said.

“Yeah…you can see why I’d rather keep him alive…”

Gallin nodded softly, getting out what she needed to treat the other woman’s leg.

\--------------------------

The scratches were luckily not that deep. A little cleaning with the alcohol swabs and clean bandages and she was good to head home. Her jeans were likely not salvageable—blood scratches weren’t a fashion statement among the normal folk—but she could wear them home.

She was surprised when she pulled up to her house and of all people Monroe’s mother was there. She looked surprised when Sloane pulled up as well. “Oh, um…hello again.”

“Hey…what’s up?”

“I wanted to return this to you,” she held out the diary volume Sloane had loaned her. “I…wasn’t sure it was true at first, but I do believe that was my uncle your grandmother worked with. He never mentioned working with a Grimm in the war. But then again, if you think Bart and I had trouble with all of this, my parents and grandparents…” She grimaced and shook her head.

“You didn’t have to come all this way, I’m sure Monroe would’ve brought it back. But thanks,” she said, taking it.

“I…was hoping to talk a little too,” she said slowly.

Sloane frowned a bit but sighed. “We should probably talk inside I’m thinking.” She unlocked the door and headed inside. Alice looked confused but followed her in. “You want anything to drink?”

“Um, no, thank you. I just…I wanted to say I’m sorry,” she said awkwardly, closing the door. She inhaled and paused, glancing over Sloane and noting the scratches on her leg.

“…Had a little accident on the job,” she said. “What are you apologizing for exactly?”

“For…I…don’t know if you meant for him to, but Monroe told me about…well, what happened to your grandmother…That you were nine when it happened.”

Sloane paused on the way to the kitchen and arched her brow. “You’re apologizing for what happened to my grandmother? You didn’t have anything to do with that I’m pretty sure.”

“No, no, of course not!” she said, shaking her head. “I…I know that Grimms are traditionally our enemy and if one did threaten me or my family—not that you and Nick have, but if one did—I’d fight back for sure. But…attacking a grandmother with her young granddaughter? That’s just…I can’t say I don’t know Blutader can be like that, but it’s still monstrous. And I’m so…I just feel like I need to say sorry.” She looked at the book in Sloane’s hands. “Your grandmother…she didn’t deserve that. She saved my uncle and his friends more than once, she was kind, and when she fought because she had to and…I can’t excuse her death. Not even as a Grimm. Or what they would’ve done to you. I just feel like I have to say sorry even though I know I didn’t do it personally. With what Monroe has said though, I can’t say I was actively doing anything to stop behavior like that…”

She stared but then nodded slowly. “Okay…I…don’t think I can accept it on behalf of those guys if that’s what you mean to do. For one, I’ve, uh….taken care of most of them,” she said honestly. Alice nodded slowly, looking uncomfortable but not speaking out against her. “But...I don’t blame you. Or your husband. I definitely don’t blame Monroe. I _wanted_ too. I really, really wanted to keep generalizing wesen and just go on without feeling like this. But…I can’t. Because of Rosalee and Monroe and a bunch of other wesen who are so annoyingly _good_.” The last was said in frustration, but the heat wasn’t fiery like it had been before she came to Portland. “So…one way or another you raised a good son.”

Alice smiled. “Well…I just wanted to say that at least. And thank you again, I feel I know a lot more about Olaf than I did before.”

Sloane smiled a bit back. “You’re welcome.”

“I should head back. We’re actually extending our trip a bit though, for a few days. We have a lot of catching up to do and getting to know Rosalee. I…have to admit, I like her,” she smiled.

Sloane smiled, oddly relieved. “Good. Uh…We'll probably let you guys do that, so...I guess see you at the wedding?”

Alice blew out a breath. "Oh...that is going to be interesting," she said, laughing a little nervously. But she nodded and opened the door. “See you then.” She headed out and Sloane stood for a moment, looking down at the book. She knew the stories pretty well now, and tapped the book against her hand as if to shake out the morals and the past and the pain she was wrestling out in the words. Just make them _plain and simple_. She was missing when things were or at least felt plane and simple and not like she was being drawn and quartered by her emotions. Sighing, she went to put the book back with the others.

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter is an original one: Gallin's contact is ready to help--but will it do any good or make things worse than ever?


End file.
